His lordship spoke with extreme feeling and kindness.  But poor Lady Glyde’s nerves were so completely broken down that she seemed quite frightened at him.  She trembled from head to foot, and allowed him to take his leave without uttering a word on her side.  She turned to me when he had gone, and said, “Oh, Mrs. Michelson, I am heart-broken about my sister, and I have no friend to advise me!  Do you think Mr. Dawson is wrong?  He told me himself this morning that there was no fear, and no need to send for another doctor.”

“With all respect to Mr. Dawson,” I answered, “in your ladyship’s place I should remember the Count’s advice.”

Lady Glyde turned away from me suddenly, with an appearance of despair, for which I was quite unable to account.

“His advice!” she said to herself.  “God help us—­his advice!”

The Count was away from Blackwater Park, as nearly as I remember, a week.

Sir Percival seemed to feel the loss of his lordship in various ways, and appeared also, I thought, much depressed and altered by the sickness and sorrow in the house.  Occasionally he was so very restless that I could not help noticing it, coming and going, and wandering here and there and everywhere in the grounds.  His inquiries about Miss Halcombe, and about his lady (whose failing health seemed to cause him sincere anxiety), were most attentive.  I think his heart was much softened.  If some kind clerical friend—­some such friend as he might have found in my late excellent husband—­had been near him at this time, cheering moral progress might have been made with Sir Percival.  I seldom find myself mistaken on a point of this sort, having had experience to guide me in my happy married days.

Her ladyship the Countess, who was now the only company for Sir Percival downstairs, rather neglected him, as I considered—­or, perhaps, it might have been that he neglected her.  A stranger might almost have supposed that they were bent, now they were left together alone, on actually avoiding one another.  This, of course, could not be.  But it did so happen, nevertheless, that the Countess made her dinner at luncheon-time, and that she always came upstairs towards evening, although Mrs. Rubelle had taken the nursing duties entirely off her hands.  Sir Percival dined by himself, and William (the man out of livery) make the remark, in my hearing, that his master had put himself on half rations of food and on a double allowance of drink.  I attach no importance to such an insolent observation as this on the part of a servant.  I reprobated it at the time, and I wish to be understood as reprobating it once more on this occasion.

In the course of the next few days Miss Halcombe did certainly seem to all of us to be mending a little.  Our faith in Mr. Dawson revived.  He appeared to be very confident about the case, and he assured Lady Glyde, when she spoke to him on the subject, that he would himself propose to send for a physician the moment he felt so much as the shadow of a doubt crossing his own mind.