Edgar had already gone, followed by his wife. Matty suggested some things which might be of use, and before they were ready he had set off on horseback by himself.
‘Someone should go with Father,’ said Justine. ‘But it is too late.’
‘Is Uncle a strong man?’ said Mark.
‘He has seemed to be in his own way. But the troubles must have lowered his resistance, and the wet and cold have done the rest.’
‘He saved Miss Griffin,’ said Aubrey; ‘himself he could not save.’
‘My dear, think what you are saying. What makes you talk like that?’
‘Excess of feeling and a wish to disguise it,’ said Aubrey, but not aloud.
‘Where has Miss Griffin been?’ said Mark.
‘At the Middletons’ house, where your uncle took her on the day when your grandfather died,’ said Matty, stating the fact without expression. ‘I know no more.’
‘We must go. Good-bye, Aunt Matty,’ said Justine. ‘Maria is in the hall. Keep Aubrey with Mr Penrose, and the house to its course. We can’t say yet just what we may require of you.’
‘Command me, dear, to any service,’ said Matty, with a hint of dryness in her tone.
‘You can send me word,’ said Aubrey, ‘and I will command my aunt.’
Edgar was in advance of his family and was the first to enter his brother’s room. Miss Griffin met him at the door, and the way she spoke of Dudley, as if he could not hear, warned him of his state.
‘He is very ill. He must have been ill for days. He will have me with him; he will not be left to the nurse.’ She stood, stooping forward, with her eyes bright and fixed from want of sleep. ‘He is like Mrs Gaveston in that. The doctor says that his heart is holding out and that he may get well.’
Dudley was raised a little in his bed, the limpness of his body showing his lack of strength to support himself, his breathing audible to Edgar at the door. His eyes were still and seemed not to see, but as his brother came they saw.
‘What is the time?’ he said in a faint, rapid voice between his breaths. ‘They do not tell it to me right.’
‘It is about twelve o’clock.’
‘No, it is the afternoon,’ said Dudley, with a cry in his tone. ‘I have been asleep for hours.’
‘Yes, you have had a sleep,’ said Miss Griffin, in a cheerful, ordinary voice, which she changed and lowered as she turned to Edgar. ‘It was only for a few minutes. He never sleeps for more.’
‘It will soon be night,’ said Dudley.
‘Not just yet, but it is getting nearer.’
Dudley lay silent, his expression showing his hopeless facing of the hours of the day.
‘Does the time seem very long to him?’ said Edgar.
‘Yes, it is so with very sick people. It is as if he were living in a dream. A minute may seem like hours.’
Dudley fell into a fit of coughing and lay helplessly shaken, and under cover of the sound Miss Griffin’s voice became quicker and more confidential.
‘Oh, I am glad I could come to him; I am glad that he sent for me. It was a good thing that I was not with Miss Seaton. She might not have let me come. She said she would never let me nurse anyone but her again. But I don’t expect she would have kept to that.’
‘I am sure she would not,’ said Edgar. ‘Is there anything my brother would like?’
‘If only it would stop!’ said Dudley, looking at Edgar as he heard the word of himself.
Edgar turned to him with so much pain in his face, that he saw it and in the desperation of his suffering tried to push it further.
‘If only it would stop for a second! So that I could get a moment’s sleep. Just for a moment.’
‘He is not like himself,’ said Edgar. ‘It seems — it reminds me of when my wife was ill.’
There were the sounds of the carriage below and Miss Griffin spoke with appeal.
‘Is anyone coming who can help? I have been with him all day and all night. He cannot bear to be with strangers, and he should not be nursed by anyone who is too tired.’
‘My wife and daughter are here,’ said Edgar, the word of his second wife bringing the thought that he could not replace his brother. ‘And any help can come from the house at once. In the meantime my sons and I have hands and ordinary sense, and can be put to any service.’
Maria came into the room and Dudley saw her.
‘It is the afternoon,’ he said, as if she would allow it to be so.
‘Not yet,’ she said, coming up to the bed. ‘You did not send for us, Dudley. That was wrong.’
‘I sent for Miss Griffin.’
‘Yes, but you should have sent for Edgar and me.’
‘I only want to have someone here.
I don’t think you are different from other people,’ said Dudley, in a rapid, empty tone, which did not seem to refer to what she said, looking at her with eyes which recognized her and did no more. ‘It doesn’t matter if we are not married. I like Edgar best.’
‘Of course you do. I knew it all the time. And he feels the same for you.’
‘If I could get to sleep, the day would soon be gone. And this is the longest day.’
Maria turned to speak to her husband and Dudley’s eyes followed her, and the moment of attention steadied him and he fell asleep.
Justine entered and kept her eyes from the bed, as if she would fulfil her duty before she followed her will.
‘I have come to take Miss Griffin to rest, and then to wait upon anyone. The boys have gone on some messages. Father, the doctor is here and can see you.’
Dudley was awake and lay coughing and looking about as if afraid.
‘Is it another day? Shall I get well?’
‘Of course you will,’ said the nurse. ‘It is the same day. You only slept for a little while. But to sleep at all is a good sign.’
‘People are here, are they? Not only you?’
‘Justine and I are here,’ said Maria.
‘Why are you both here?’
‘We both like to be with you,’
‘Is it the afternoon?’
‘It will be soon. Would you like me to read to you?’
‘Will you put in any feeling?’
‘No, none at all.’
‘Who is that person who puts in feeling? Matty would, wouldn’t she? And Justine?’ Dudley gave a smile.
‘What book will you have?’
‘Not any book. Something about — ’
‘About what?’ said Maria, bending over him.
‘You know, you know!’ said Dudley in a frightened voice, throwing up his arms.
The movement brought a fit of coughing, and as it abated he lay trembling, with a sound of crying in the cough. Edgar and the doctor entered and seeing them broke his mood, though he did not seem to know them.
‘Well, I haven’t much to live for,’ he said to himself. ‘I am really almost alone. It isn’t much to leave behind.’ He tried to raise himself and spoke almost with a scream. ‘If I die, Miss Griffin must have some money! You will give her some? You won’t keep it all?’
‘Yes, yes, of course we will. She shall have enough,’ said Edgar. ‘But you will not die.’