Weaker than a Woman — page 241: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

232 er oissyes WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. “~~, tell them I have no pain, no wound, no bruise. I do not like doctors, and I shall be all right to-morrow.” Ten o’clock and eleven o’clock struck. He talked to them the whole time; but at eleven he complained more of the terrible numbness and the inability to move. ‘“T he here likea log,” he said. “I shall be glad when to- morrow comes.” He looked haggard and restless as the time woreon. “I will not ask for brandy,” he remarked, “though I should like some; but I mean to give it up—l do, indeed. You will see, Violet, how happy we shall be when I am well.” It was nearly midnight when the doctors came—Doctor Brown, the old established practitioner, and Doctor Brene, the clever young physician from London, who had bought a practice in Lilford. They looked in wonder at the scene —the superb room, the pale, lovely woman in her dress of blue velvet and pearls, the man lying on the bed. Felix explained rapidly what had happened. “Tam all right,” said Sir Owen. ‘They need not have ~ troubled you, gentlemen. I have no pain, no bruise, no wound. The fall stunned me—that is all.” The doctors looked at each other, and then asked Lady Chevenix if she would leave them with her husband. “There is no need,” he said, impatiently. “ Lonsdale, never mind what they say; do not go.” “T will not be long away,” replied Felix. He did not like the look that had passed between the doc- tors; it was nota hopeful one. He touched Lady Chevenix gently on the arm. “Let us retire fora few minutes,” he said, and, kissing her husband’s face, Violet rose and quitted the room. They did not gofar. Through the oriel window at the end of the corridor the summer moon was shining, and they both walked thither. She looked up at Felix, and he saw that she trembled. “Tam frightened,” she said. “It seems so strange.” In perfect silence they stood at the window, watching the moonlight on the gardens. They had been there quite — twenty minutes when the door of Sir Owen’s room was slowly opened, and Doctor Brene came to them. ‘“T have bad news for you,” he said, in his grave, full Grate Ny Sa Rieke wy ay ~~ - r a « : voice. “Lady Chevenix, you must be brave. I have very _ bad news.” She could grow no paler. She stood white, calm, and self-possessed before him, but her heart was beating pain- fully, and every nerve was strained to the utmost. fees ‘comi a ¢