John hesitated, remembering Sir Timothy’s words, but she did not wait for an answer.

“Yes,” she said calmly, “he wishes me to be in my proper place.  It would be a scandal if I did such a remarkable thing as to leave home on any pretext at such a moment.  Only by being extraordinarily respectable and dignified can we live down the memory of his father’s unconventional behaviour.  I must remember my position.  I must smell my salts, and put my feet up on the sofa, and be moderately overcome during the crisis, and moderately thankful to the Almighty when it’s over, so that every one may hear how admirably dear Lady Mary behaved.  And when I am reading the Times to him during his convalescence,” she cried, wringing her hands, “Peter—­Peter will be thousands of miles away, marching over the veldt to his death.”

“You make very sure of Peter’s death,” said John, quietly.

“Oh yes,” said Lady Mary, listlessly.  “He’s an only son.  It’s always the only sons who die.  I’ve remarked that.”

“You make very sure of Sir Timothy’s recovery.”

“Oh yes,” Lady Mary said again.  “He’s a very strong man.”

Something ominous in John’s face and voice attracted her attention.

“Why do you look like that?”

“Because,” said John, slowly—­“you understand I’m treating you as a woman of courage—­Dr. Blundell told me just now that—­the odds are against him.”

She uttered a little cry.

The doctor’s voice at the end of the hall made them both start.

“Lady Mary,” he said, “you will forgive my interruption.  Sir Timothy desired me to join you.  He feared this double blow might prove too much for your strength.”

“I am quite strong,” said Lady Mary.

“He wished me to deliver a message,” said the doctor.

“Yes.”

“On reflection, Sir Timothy believes that he may be partly influenced by a selfish desire for the consolation of your presence in wishing you to remain with him to-morrow.  He was struck, I believe, with something Mr. Crewys said—­on this point.”

“God bless you, John!” said Lady Mary.

“Hush!” said John, shaking his head.

Dr. Blundell’s voice sounded, John thought, as though he were putting force upon himself to speak calmly and steadily.  His eyes were bent on the floor, and he never once looked at Lady Mary.

“Sir Timothy desires, consequently,” he said, “that you will consider yourself free to follow your own wishes in the matter; being guided, as far as possible, by the advice of Mr. Crewys.  He is afraid of further agitation, and therefore asks you to convey to him, as quickly as possible, your final decision.  As his physician, may I beg you not to keep him waiting?”

He left them, and returned to the study.

Though it was only a short silence that followed his departure, John had time to learn by heart the aspect of the half-lighted, shadowy hall.