"Oh, isn't it lovely that he's so much better?" she cried. "You must have the gift of healing; it's like as if you had set a charm." Milbanke made no response. "Why don't you say something?" she asked quickly. "Don't you think he's better? Doesn't the doctor think he's better?" Her quick mind sprang like lightning from one conclusion to another. "Mr. Milbanke," she added, "you're keeping something back! There's something you don't like to say!" Then at last Milbanke found voice. "Indeed no, Miss Clodagh. You are wrong--quite wrong, believe me. There is nothing to be alarmed at--nothing. It is only----" "Only what?" "Now don't be alarmed! I beg you not to be alarmed!" The sudden whiteness that had overspread her face unnerved him. "It is only that I, as a Londoner, am a little doubtful of your village doctor. A mere prejudice, I know. But Gallagher is broadminded and willing to humour me. And he--I--that is, we both think that another opinion will do no harm. It's nothing to be alarmed at. Nothing, believe me! A mere formality." But Clodagh's lips had paled. She stood looking at him silently, her large, questioning eyes reminding him disconcertingly of Asshlin's. "Miss Clodagh," he said again, "don't be alarmed!--don't be alarmed! It's only to satisfy an old sceptic----" "Oh no, it isn't!" she said suddenly. "Oh no, it isn't! I know--I know quite well. It means that he's going to die." Her voice caught; and, with a swift movement, she turned and fled out of the yard, leaving Milbanke pained, bewildered, and alarmed. The afternoon passed in weary, monotonous waiting. Half an hour after the conversation in the yard, Clodagh appeared in her father's room. She was pale and subdued, and her eyelids looked suspiciously red, but she took her place quietly at the foot of the bed. She sat very still, her eyes fixed on Asshlin's face, apparently heedless of both the nurse's deft movements and Milbanke's silent, unobtrusive presence. At three o'clock the acute pains that had tormented the patient at intervals ever since the accident had occurred, returned with a violence that seemed accentuated by the respite he had obtained during the morning. For an hour or more he writhed and groaned in unspeakable agony, while those about him suffered a reflected torment, and chafed impotently at the distance that cut off Carrigmore and the possibility of any fresh medical relief. The nurse was unceasingly vigilant; but the mild and cautious remedies ordered by Gallagher were powerless to soothe the violent pain. At last Nature mercifully intervened, and the exhausted sufferer fell into a sleep that lasted for several hours. At seven o'clock there was a stir of excitement through the house, as the whisper passed from one to another that the Dublin surgeon had arrived. When the news reached the sick-room, Milbanke drew a breath of intense relief; but Clodagh's pale face went a shade whiter.