Page:The Yellow Book - 04.djvu/82

72 mind. He pulled out a chair before the fire and sat down, meditating more quietly.

An hour later he was disturbed from his reflections by the passage of feet along the hall. His ears took in the sound with a fret of new anxiety; it portended fresh horrors to him. But in a little he realised from the voices without that the nurse had arrived, and a feeling of relief pervaded him. The footsteps passed upstairs. He sat passive within the arms of his chair and listened. A fresh hope of succour lay in those feet. The doctor and the nurse and the maid were doing what was vital; in their attentions was the promise of rescue. It was as if he himself took no part in the tragedy; he sat as a spectator in the stalls, and viewed the action only with the concern of an interested visitor. He filled another tumbler with spirit.

The alcohol fired his blood, and raised him superior to the petty worry of his nerves. He drank and stared in the embers and considered. Letty was ill in a manner not uncommon; even though it threatened the sacrifice of one life the malady was not inevitably mortal. He had been bidden to discharge his fears, and brandy had discharged them for him. He turned to fill his glass again; the fumes were in his head, but at that moment the recollection of his last excess flashed suddenly upon him, and, with an inarticulate scream of rage, he dashed the bottle to the floor, and ground the glass under his feet. Rising irresolutely he made his way up stairs, and paused before Letty's door. At his knock the nurse came out and greeted him a strange tall woman with hard eyes.

"My wife," he asked "is Mrs. Farrell better?" She pushed him gently away. "I think so," she said; "we shall see. The worst is over, perhaps. You understand. Hush, she is sleeping now at last." He lingered still, and she made a gesture to