Blind Policy. Fenn George Manville

do not,” said the girl, smiling. “Poor aunt is not well this morning.”

      “How can I be, my child, knowing as I do that my little bit of property is slowly wasting away, and – ”

      “Here’s the urn, aunt,” cried Laura. “Shall I make the tea?”

      “Certainly not, my dear. Let me, pray, enjoy the last few privileges of my age while I am here. I do not mean in this house, Isabel, my child, but living out my last weary span.”

      “Auntie darling,” said Laura, tenderly, getting up as soon as the maid had placed tea-urn and covered dishes upon the table, “don’t be so miserable this morning now that dear Bel is here,” and she kissed the old lady lovingly.

      “How can I help it, my child? It is her being here makes me feel so bad.”

      “Oh, my dear Mrs Crane!” cried Isabel.

      “Worse and worse!” sobbed the old lady, melting into tears. “I did think you were softening to me, and would end by loving me and always calling me aunt – Mrs Crane!”

      “Aunt – auntie! There!” cried Isabel, running to her and kissing her. “But I think it is I who ought to complain.”

      “Yes, my dear, you ought.”

      “You shouldn’t say I make you bad.”

      “But you do, my dear. It’s all on your account. It’s dreadful, and I lay awake nearly all the night pitying you.”

      “Pitying me when I am so happy, auntie?” cried Isabel.

      “Ah, my child! you don’t know. All men are full of evil, but doctors are the worst of all.”

      “There, Bel; you are going to marry a horrid wretch,” cried Laura.

      “Don’t scoff, my dear,” continued the old lady. “It is too serious. They are always away from home – called at the most unearthly hours.”

      “Yes, to do good, auntie,” said Isabel, smiling.

      “And auntie won’t do good when she might Aunt, Isabel and I are dying for some tea.”

      “Yes, yes, my dear; I’ll pour it out directly.”

      “Wait a moment, aunt,” cried Laura. “I’ll go and ask Fred if he is coming down.”

      “Go and ask Fred, my dear? He is not at home.”

      “What!” cried the two girls in a breath.

      “He has not come back yet. I lay awake hour after hour listening, with my door a little way open – I can hear the latch-key then – but – he did not come.”

      Laura glanced at her visitor, and saw trouble coming in her face like a cloud. “Oh, well, aunt, dear, it is not the first time.”

      “No, my dear,” said the old lady, tightening her lips as she dropped a lump of sugar outside a cup; “it is not the first time by a long way, and I don’t like it.”

      “Neither does Fred, I’m sure, poor fellow!” cried Laura, helping the ham and eggs. “It is some serious case, Bel dear, and he’ll come back tired out for you to comfort him up. You’ll often have it to do, for, poor boy, he is called out a great deal.”

      At that moment Aunt Grace let the sugar-tongs fell with a clatter among the cups, and burst into a fit of sobbing.

      “Aunt dear!” cried Laura, jumping up to go to her side again; “what is the matter?”

      “I don’t like it, my dear. His being out like that.”

      “Well, Fred doesn’t either.”

      “Ah, but that’s it. He does, and it’s horrible; and I will not sit still and see him deceive this poor, dear lamb.”

      “Mrs Crane!” cried Isabel, sitting up flushed with indignation.

      “I can’t help it, my dear. I should be a wicked woman if I did not speak. I watched last night, and I saw her. One of those horridly handsome, fashionable-looking ladies, and she carried him off just as if she were leading him by a chain. I can’t help it! I had a presentiment then, and I’m obliged to speak. He hasn’t come back, and I felt he would not, and as sure as I’m alive he’ll never come back again.”

      “Aunt!” cried Laura, passionately. “Shame – Bel dear, don’t take any notice of her.”

      But her words had no effect. Isabel had risen with her face scarlet, then turning white as her lips parted to utter an indignant rebuke.

      No words came, and covering her face with her hand she hurried out of the room.

      “Auntie!” cried Laura, passionately. “See what you’ve done. You’re right. It’s quite time you made up your mind to die.”

      Chapter Six.

      In Danger

      As Chester turned and gazed in his patient’s face, he felt that all was over: and at that moment Paddy, startled by Marion’s excited words, rushed across and caught his arm.

      “Is he going?”

      “Yes,” cried Marion, passionately, “and he has been murdered. Rob, Rob, my own darling, don’t, don’t leave me here to this! Rob! I cannot bear it! Dr Chester! for pity’s sake! Oh, do something! Help!”

      “Hush! You are hindering me,” said Chester, sternly – himself once more. “The brandy! You – you – madam, use your fan rapidly. Is there no air to be got into this wretched prison? That’s right. Raise his head a little more. That’s better. Be calm, both of you. Everything depends upon that.”

      “But he is dying – he is dying!” wailed Marion.

      “Be silent, madam, and obey my orders,” whispered Chester, angrily, and the desperate fight went on. Desperate indeed it seemed to the doctor, and he fought as he had never fought before. But for some time every breath the poor fellow drew, feebly and painfully, seemed to her who watched him, with staring eyes, his very last.

      They were alone with him for quite an hour, before the old housekeeper came in, to grasp at once what was wrong, and hurry to the couch.

      “Oh, my child, why did you not ring for me?” she cried.

      “Hush! Silence!” said the doctor, sternly. “The paroxysm has exhausted itself. With perfect quiet he may yet live.”

      His hand was caught by Marion and passionately kissed, before she sank, half-fainting, in the old housekeeper’s arms.

      Paddy went in and out on tip-toe, his action suggesting always that he was doing something in silence for a wager; and twice over his brother came in as the hours slipped past, but only to be sternly ordered to go by the doctor, who was then alone with Marion and the wounded man.

      “But hang it all, sir!” he protested, “am I not to do what I like in my own house?”

      “No, not while I am in charge of my patient.”

      “But – ”

      “Look here, sir, I will not be answerable for his life if you stay,” whispered Chester, sharply.

      The intruder bit his lips and glanced at Marion, then at the doctor and back. There was a world of meaning in his eyes, but Chester was too dreamy then to interpret it, and the man went away, but only for the far door to be re-opened and Paddy to make his appearance.

      Marion uttered a sign of annoyance, and hurried to meet him.

      “You must not stay, Paddy,” she whispered. “It is so important that Robert should be kept quiet.”

      “All right,” he said. “I didn’t want to come, but Jem sent me. He doesn’t like your being alone with the doctor.”

      An angry frown darkened Marion’s face.

      “Go,” she said firmly. “Paddy, I think he will live now.”

      “Thank God!” cried the young fellow,