“We ought to have done it days ago,” Hewet repeated angrily.

When he went back into the drawing-room he found that Mrs. Flushing was there, standing very erect in the middle of the room, having arrived, as people did in these days, by the kitchen or through the garden unannounced.

“She’s better?” Mrs. Flushing enquired abruptly; they did not attempt to shake hands.

“No,” said Terence.  “If anything, they think she’s worse.”

Mrs. Flushing seemed to consider for a moment or two, looking straight at Terence all the time.

“Let me tell you,” she said, speaking in nervous jerks, “it’s always about the seventh day one begins to get anxious.  I daresay you’ve been sittin’ here worryin’ by yourself.  You think she’s bad, but any one comin’ with a fresh eye would see she was better.  Mr. Elliot’s had fever; he’s all right now,” she threw out.  “It wasn’t anythin’ she caught on the expedition.  What’s it matter—­a few days’ fever?  My brother had fever for twenty-six days once.  And in a week or two he was up and about.  We gave him nothin’ but milk and arrowroot—­”

Here Mrs. Chailey came in with a message.

“I’m wanted upstairs,” said Terence.

“You see—­she’ll be better,” Mrs. Flushing jerked out as he left the room.  Her anxiety to persuade Terence was very great, and when he left her without saying anything she felt dissatisfied and restless; she did not like to stay, but she could not bear to go.  She wandered from room to room looking for some one to talk to, but all the rooms were empty.

Terence went upstairs, stood inside the door to take Helen’s directions, looked over at Rachel, but did not attempt to speak to her.  She appeared vaguely conscious of his presence, but it seemed to disturb her, and she turned, so that she lay with her back to him.

For six days indeed she had been oblivious of the world outside, because it needed all her attention to follow the hot, red, quick sights which passed incessantly before her eyes.  She knew that it was of enormous importance that she should attend to these sights and grasp their meaning, but she was always being just too late to hear or see something which would explain it all.  For this reason, the faces,—­Helen’s face, the nurse’s, Terence’s, the doctor’s,—­which occasionally forced themselves very close to her, were worrying because they distracted her attention and she might miss the clue.  However, on the fourth afternoon she was suddenly unable to keep Helen’s face distinct from the sights themselves; her lips widened as she bent down over the bed, and she began to gabble unintelligibly like the rest.  The sights were all concerned in some plot, some adventure, some escape.  The nature of what they were doing changed incessantly, although there was always a reason behind it, which she must endeavour to grasp.  Now they were among trees and savages, now they were on the sea, now they were on the tops of high towers; now