Poor child! she had remembered the bargain of the night before. She had not thought it worthy of thought then, believing Death indeed lay before her when she drank that draught; but when she woke, when memory returned to her (and it always came quickly after such a draught as that), she had gladly told herself that now all her troubles were at an end, that the old man would provide for her, protect her. And now this young man, so forbidding, so unkind, with his harsh voice and ways; and yet last night he had seemed so kind! ‘He is dying!’ said Wyndham shortly. ‘A doctor must be summoned without delay. I shall arrange for your going—for your safety; but you must be quick.’ He rang the bell for Denis, who was waiting for him below. The Professor’s only servant was a charwoman, who left nightly at ten, and did not return till the same time next morning. ‘You need provide for nothing,’ said the girl. She caught up the little shawl that had been wrapped round her last night, and moved towards the door. ‘Stay a moment; you can’t go like this,’ said the young man distractedly. ‘I have a servant who will take you to some place of safety. It is impossible that you should go like this. Why’—awkwardly—‘you haven’t even got a bonnet.’ She stopped and looked at him. ‘It is not you who are responsible,’ she said. ‘And’—she drew her breath quickly—‘after all, no one is. I took that drug of my own accord, of my own will, but he did promise to—to—— But if he is dying?’ She looked at him anxiously, making the last speech a question. ‘I am afraid so.’ ‘Then that is at an end.’ She went towards the door. ‘Wait for my servant,’ entreated he, following her and laying a hand upon her arm. ‘I cannot allow you to go like this.’ ‘I don’t see what it is to you,’ said she. ‘It is much—a great deal. For one thing, the Professor, if he recovers, would never forgive me for letting you go out of his life without reparation—without the fulfilment of his promise to you. He is indebted to you, remember. It’—eagerly—‘was a bargain. And, after all, if you throw off his responsibility now, where will you go? You say you have no home—no——’ ‘Nothing! nothing!’ she said. He could see her face pale again, and again that dreadful look of despair, of hopelessness, that had crowned her last night, aged and made miserable her face. He turned gladly from the sad contemplation of it to address Denis, who had entered the room, his small twinkling eyes as bright as ever; but, then, he had slept tranquilly the whole night through by a kitchen fire that would have been hard to rival in heat and brilliancy. Amongst all Denis’s many virtues, one stood out: he could always be depended on to look after himself. And really that is a great thing in a faithful servant; so many of them like to pose as martyrs in the cause. Wyndham led his servant a little aside.