She got up.  “I will lie down in the conservatory,” she said.

“No—­no!” He put his free hand on her arm with a touch of his customary imperiousness.  “That won’t do.  You’re to go to bed properly—­and sleep till you can’t sleep any longer.  Yes, that’s an order, see?” He smiled again at her, his sudden transforming smile.  “Be a good child and do as I tell you!  Cox is within call.  We’ll certainly fetch you if we find we can’t do without you.”

Juliet’s eyes went to Vera.

“Yes, she wants to get rid of you too,” said the squire.  “We’re pining to be alone.  No, we won’t talk.  We won’t do anything we ought not, eh, Vera, my dear?  Nurse will be getting up in another hour so we shan’t have it to ourselves for long.”

He had his way.  He could be quite irresistible when he chose.  Juliet found herself yielding without misgiving, though till then he had only been allowed at Vera’s bedside for a few minutes at a time.  Vera was certainly very much better that day, and she read in her eyes the desire to meet her husband’s wishes.  She paused to give him one or two directions regarding medicine, and then went quietly to the door of the conservatory.

Columbus sprang to greet her with a joy that convulsed him from head to tail, and she gathered him up in her arms and took him with her, passing back through the library in time to see the squire lay his face down upon the slender hand he held and kiss it.

In the great hall outside she found Saltash loitering.  He came at once to meet her, and had taken Columbus from her before she realized his intention.

“He is too heavy for you, ma cherie,” he said, with his quizzing smile.  “Lend him to me for this afternoon!  He’s getting disgracefully fat.  I’ll take him for a walk.”

Relieved of Columbus’ weight, she became suddenly and overpoweringly aware of a dwindling of her strength.  She said no word, but her face must have betrayed her, for the next thing she knew was Saltash’s arm like a coiled spring about her, impelling her towards the grand staircase.

“I’ll take you to your room, Juliette,” he said.  “You might miss the way by yourself.  You’re awfully tired, aren’t you?”

It was absurd, but a curious desire to weep possessed her.

“Yes, I know,” said Saltash, with his semi-comic tenderness.  “Don’t mind me!  I knew you’d come to it sooner or later.  You’re not used to playing the sister of mercy are you, ma mie, though it becomes you—­vastly well.”

“Don’t, Charles!” she murmured faintly.

“My dear, I mean no harm,” he protested, firmly leading her upwards.  “I am only—­the friend in need.”

She took him at his word though half against her will.  He guided her up the branching staircase to the gallery above, bringing her finally to a tall oak door at the further end.

“Here is your chamber of sleep, Juliette!  Now will you make me a promise?”