He turned his head away, and presently fell into a light dose.  Did he mean, or did he persuade himself that he meant half of what he said?  Graham could not decide; and, in truth, he had uttered his little speech with an air of dignity and resignation that half imposed upon the younger man, and impressed him, in spite of his better judgment.  An heroic soul going forth with an unfeigned stoicism to meet its fate?  Or an unhappy man, striving to hide a shivering consciousness from himself and others, with an assumption of philosophical scepticism?  Ah! who was Graham, that he should judge or weigh the secrets of another man’s heart at such an hour as this?  He left the bedside, and went back once more to his writing.

A few minutes afterwards, Madame Lavaux knocked softly, and looked into the room.  Graham went out into the passage to speak to her, closing the door after him.

“How is he now, the poor Monsieur?” asks Madame.

“He is sleeping now,” Graham answered; “there is nothing to be done but to keep him as quiet as possible.”

“And will he recover, do you think?”

“Hardly.  One must always hope; but he is very ill.”

“Ah! well,” said the landlady, resigning herself; “but, after all,” she added, “it is sad to see a man die like that; and then there is the child.  Otherwise the world will be none the worse for wanting him.  But what is to become of the little girl?”

“That is all arranged,” replied Graham, “she is to go to an aunt, a sister of her father’s, who, it appears, is Superior of a convent near Liege.  But can you tell me, Madame, had Madame Linders quarrelled with her English relations?  When she was dying alone here, had she no friends of her own that she could have sent for to be with her?”

“She would not have them, Monsieur; you see, she was devoted to her husband in spite of all, this poor Madame, and he had quarrelled with her relations, I believe; at any rate, she would not send for them.  ‘Adolphe will come,’ she would always say, ‘and it would vex him to find anyone here,’ and so she died alone, for he never arrived till the next morning.  However,” continues Madame, “it was not of that I came to speak now, it was to know if Monsieur would not wish to have a nurse to-night to attend the poor gentleman?  It is what we must have had if you had not been here, and there is no reason why you should knock yourself up with nursing him.”

“It certainly might be better,” said Graham considering, “I had thought of it, but—­however, you are quite right, Madame, a nurse we will have; where can I get one?”

Madame said he had better apply to the Soeurs de Charite, and gave him an address, adding that if he would like to go himself she could spare half an hour to sit with Monsieur there.

“I will go at once,” replied Graham, “whilst he is sleeping; he is not likely to rouse again just a present; don’t let him talk or move if he should awake, but it is not probable that he will.”