“Because I felt myself competent to manage the case.”

“You see how you have managed it—­I will be down in a minute.  Get everybody out—­”

Her composed manner when she came down showed nothing of that which was seething within her.

She found Jean in bridal-white sitting by the bed and holding the General’s hand.  The doctor had been sent for, Derry had been sent for—­things were being swept out of her hands.  She blamed it, still hiding her anger under a quiet manner, on Jean.

“He has had a stroke.  It was probably the excitement of your coming.”

The day nurse intervened.  “It was before she came, Miss Merritt, that I saw him reach for the rug.  I was puzzled and started to investigate, and then I saw her on the stairs—­” She smiled at Jean.  Never in her limited young life had the day nurse seen such a lovely bride, and she did not in the least like Miss Merritt.

Derry coming a little later held Jean’s hand in his while he faced Hilda.  “What does the doctor say?”

The truth came reluctantly.  “He may be unconscious for days.  He may never wake up—­”

“I do not think we shall need your services—.  I will send you a check for any amount you may name.”

“But—­”

“Whatever claim you may have upon him will be settled when he is in a condition to settle anything; until then, my wife and I shall stay—­”

Hilda went upstairs and packed her bag.  So her house of dreams tumbled about her.  So she left behind her the tiara and the pearl collar with the diamond slides, and the velvet cloak with the ermine collar.  Poor Hilda, with her head held high, going out of the shadowed house.

And taking Hilda’s place, oh, more than taking her place, was Jean—­and this was her wedding day.  The little rose-colored drawing room had needed all of its rose to counteract the gray of the world outside, with the snow and Daddy’s car standing ready to take him to the station.

But always there had been the thought of Derry to uphold her, and the wonder of their love.  Nothing could rob her of that.

He had held her in his arms the night before, and had said, “Tomorrow we shall be in Woodstock, and shall listen to the chimes—­”

And now it was tomorrow, and they were here in this great grim house with Death at the door.

Quite miraculously Emily arrived, and she and Bronson made a boudoir of Derry’s sitting-room.  They filled it with flowers, as was fitting for a bridal-bower.  Jean’s little trunk had been sent on to Woodstock, but there was her bag, and a supply of things which Emily brought from home.

A new night nurse came, and Miss Martin was retained for the day.  The snow still fell, and the old man in the lacquered bed was still unconscious, his stertorous breathing sounding through the house.

And it was her wedding day!

They dined in the great room where Derry’s ancestors gazed down on them.  Emily was there, and it was a bridal feast, with things ordered hurriedly.  Bronson, too, had seen to that.  But they ate little.  Emily talked and Derry ably supplemented her efforts.