Mrs. Melbury really thought matters much worse than she represented,
and Grace knew that she thought so. She sat down dazed for a few
minutes, returning a negative to her step-mother's inquiry if she could
do anything for her. "But please go into the bedroom," Grace said, on
second thoughts, "and see if all is ready there--in case it is
serious." Mrs. Melbury thereupon called Grammer, and they did as
directed, supplying the room with everything they could think of for
the accommodation of an injured man.
Nobody was left in the lower part of the house. Not many minutes
passed when Grace heard a knock at the door--a single knock, not loud
enough to reach the ears of those in the bedroom. She went to the top
of the stairs and said, faintly, "Come up," knowing that the door
stood, as usual in such houses, wide open.
Retreating into the gloom of the broad landing she saw rise up the
stairs a woman whom at first she did not recognize, till her voice
revealed her to be Suke Damson, in great fright and sorrow. A streak
of light from the partially closed door of Grace's room fell upon her
face as she came forward, and it was drawn and pale.
"Oh, Miss Melbury--I would say Mrs. Fitzpiers," she said, wringing her
hands. "This terrible news. Is he dead? Is he hurted very bad? Tell
me; I couldn't help coming; please forgive me, Miss Melbury--Mrs.
Fitzpiers I would say!"
Grace sank down on the oak chest which stood on the landing, and put
her hands to her now flushed face and head. Could she order Suke
Damson down-stairs and out of the house? Her husband might be brought
in at any moment, and what would happen? But could she order this
genuinely grieved woman away?
There was a dead silence of half a minute or so, till Suke said, "Why
don't ye speak? Is he here? Is he dead? If so, why can't I see
him--would it be so very wrong?"
Before Grace had answered somebody else came to the door below--a
foot-fall light as a roe's. There was a hurried tapping upon the
panel, as if with the impatient tips of fingers whose owner thought not
whether a knocker were there or no. Without a pause, and possibly
guided by the stray beam of light on the landing, the newcomer ascended
the staircase as the first had done. Grace was sufficiently visible,
and the lady, for a lady it was, came to her side.
"I could make nobody hear down-stairs," said Felice Charmond, with lips
whose dryness could almost be heard, and panting, as she stood like one
ready to sink on the floor with distress. "What is--the matter--tell
me the worst! Can he live?" She looked at Grace imploringly, without
perceiving poor Suke, who, dismayed at such a presence, had shrunk away
into the shade.