He took up his stand near her while he waited for the doctor, and again that deep furrow showed between his brows.  But the eyes that watched her were soft and tender as a woman’s.  There was something almost maternal in their regard, a compassion so deep as to be utterly unconscious of itself.  When the doctor’s step sounded at length outside he shuffled away without disturbing her.

It was hours later when Anne awoke and sat up with a confused sense of something wrong.  She was still in her easy-chair before the fire, which burned brightly as ever, while on the other side of the hearth, propped upright upon cushions and watching her with those steady blue eyes, whose kindness never varied, was Lucas Errol.

He spoke to her at once, very softly and gently, as if she had been a child.

“I’m real pleased you’ve had a sleep.  You needed it.  Don’t look so startled.  It’s all right—­a little late, but that’s nothing.  Dimsdale and I agreed that it would be a pity to disturb you.  So we let you sleep on.  And he brought in a tray of refreshments to fortify you when you awoke.  He’s a thoughtful old chap, Lady Carfax.  You’re lucky to have such a servant.”

But Anne scarcely heard him.  She was staring at the clock in amazement.  It was half-past three!  Just twelve hours since—­She repressed a violent shudder.

“Don’t be shocked any!” besought Lucas in his easy drawl.  “I’m often awake at this hour.  I guessed you wouldn’t sleep if we woke you to go to your room, and I didn’t quite like the thought of being down here out of reach.  You are not vexed with me, I hope?”

“No,” she said.  “I am not vexed.”

But she looked at him very strangely, as if that were not all she desired to say.

“Dimsdale has been in and out,” he said, “keeping the fire going.  He and one of the others are watching upstairs.  But all is quiet there.  Sir Giles has been asleep ever since the doctor left.”

Anne got up slowly.  “You look very uncomfortable,” she said.

He smiled up at her.  “My dear Lady Carfax, I am all right.  The advantage of this position is that one can rise at a moment’s notice.”

As if to demonstrate the truth of this he rose, but not without considerable effort.

“Ah, please don’t!” she said, putting out a quick, restraining hand.  “It hurts me to see you suffer on my account.  It was too kind of you—­much too kind—­to stay with me like this.  You will never know how much you have helped me, and I thank you for it with all my heart.  Now please sit down again, and let me wait upon you for a change.  Have you had anything to eat or drink?”

He sat down again, looking quizzical.  “I have been waiting for my hostess to join me,” he said.

“Do you ever think of yourself at all?” she asked, turning aside to the tray that Dimsdale’s consideration had provided.

“A great deal more often than you imagine,” smiled Lucas.  “Must you really do the waiting?  It’s very bad for me, you know.”