Claudia went to the door of Ishmael’s room and rapped softly.

Old Katie answered the summons.

“Can I come in now, Katie?” asked Miss Merlin, a little impatiently.

“Oh, yes, I s’pose so; I s’pose you’d die if you didn’t!” answered this privileged old servant, holding open the door for Claudia’s admittance.

She passed softly into the darkened room, and approached the bedside.  Ishmael lay there swathed in linen bandages and extended at full length, more like a shrouded corpse than a living boy.  His eyes were closed and his face was livid.

“Is he asleep?” inquired Claudia, in a tone scarcely above her breath.

“Sort o’ sleep.  You see, arter de doctor done set his arm an’ leg, an’ splintered of ’em up, an’ boun’ up his wounds an’ bruises, he gib him some’at to ‘pose his nerves and make him sleep, an’ it done hev him into dis state; which you see yourse’f is nyder sleep nor wake nor dead nor libe.”

Claudia saw indeed that he was under the effects of morphia.  And with a deep sigh of strangely blended relief and apprehension, Claudia sank into a chair beside his bed.

And old Katie took that opportunity to slip out and eat her “bit of dinner,” leaving Claudia watching.

At the expiration of an hour Katie returned to her post.  But Claudia did not therefore quit hers.  She remained seated beside the wounded boy.  All that day he lay quietly, under the influence of morphia.  Once the judge looked in to inquire the state of the patient, and on being told that the boy still slept, he went off again.  Late in the afternoon the doctor came again, saw that his patient was at ease, left directions for his treatment, and then prepared to depart.

“How is the sick woman at Gray’s?” inquired Claudia.

“Extremely ill.  I am going immediately back there to remain until it is over; if I should be particularly wanted here, send there for me,” said the doctor.

“Yes; but I am very sorry Mrs. Gray is so ill!  She is Ishmael’s aunt.  What is the matter with her?”

“Humph!” answered the doctor.  “Good-night, Miss Claudia.  You will know where to send for me, if I am wanted here.”

“Yes; but I am so sorry about Gray’s wife!  Is she in danger?” persisted Claudia.

“Yes.”

“I am very sorry; but what ails her?” persevered Claudia.

“Good-evening, Miss Merlin,” replied the doctor, lifting his hat and departing.

“The man is half asleep; he has not answered my question,” grumbled Claudia, as she returned to her seat by the sick-bed.

Just then the bell rung for the late dinner, and Claudia went out and crossed the hall to the dining room, where she joined her father.  And while at dinner she gave him a more detailed account of her late danger, and the manner in which she was saved.

Once more in the course of that evening Claudia looked in upon the wounded boy, to ascertain his condition before retiring to her room.  He was still sleeping.