“No,” he said quietly; “you must rest and sleep before you go to him.”

Alice Deringham smiled a little, but there was a vibration in her voice that stirred the man.  “Do you think I could?”

This time there was no mistaking the faint haziness in Seaforth’s eyes.  “God bless you,” he said simply.  “He is my friend—­and I think you are the only one who can do anything for him.”

Alice Deringham had in her a trace of greatness which was instinctive, and not the result of the training that had taught her serenity.  So, though the man had not hidden his meaning, she made no protest nor asked any question.

“All this is new to me,” she said; “but I will do the best I can.”

Seaforth led her into a room where a dim light was burning.  It was most of it in shadow, but she could see the still form on the bed, and for a moment or two nothing else.  The face on the pillow was very white and hollow, the half-closed eyes had a curious glitter, while a lean hand was clenched upon the coverlet.  Alice Deringham had seen very little of suffering of any kind, and nothing of sickness, and for a moment she stood motionless, horrified at the sight of what was left of the man who had parted from her on the verandah the incarnation of resolute virility.  As she watched him he moaned a little, and the sound, which was scarcely human and suggested the cry of some unreasoning creature in pain, sent a thrill through her.  Her eyes dimmed a little, and moving forward softly she laid a cool palm on the flushed forehead.

“Don’t you know me, Harry?  I have come to take care of you,” she said.

The man’s eyes opened wider, and though it was evident that there was not complete comprehension in them he sighed as with a great contentment.  Then they closed altogether as he turned his head a trifle on the pillow.  The girl did not move, but stood stooping a little, and looking down at him with a great compassion, until a man who had been watching her nodded unseen to Seaforth as he also bent over the bed.  He waited for almost a minute, and then straightened himself wearily as he spoke in a just audible whisper.

“Quiet at last, and sleep may come!  Miss Deringham, I think?” he said.

The girl bent her head, and moved softly with him towards the door.  “He knew me?” she said.

The doctor shook his head.  “No—­not altogether, I think.  Still, he is quiet, and that is everything.  Now I may be wanted—­presently—­and for a little there is nothing I can do, while Mr. Seaforth and I have reached our limits.  If Alton opens his eyes, let him see you, and you will give him the draught yonder in an hour from now.  It is of vital importance that he should take it.  If he does not, tap on the door for me.”