?"

"About an hour."

"And I am hurt? Badly?"

He fixed his eyes with a powerful look on the doctor's face, and that
good man shrunk away from the news he must tell.

"Badly?" reiterated the young baronet, in a peremptory tone, that told
all of his nature. "Ah! you won't speak, I see. I am, and I feel--I
feel-- Doctor, am I going to die?"

He asked the question with wildness--a sudden horror of death, half
starting up in bed. Still the doctor did not speak; still Mrs.
Hilliard's suppressed sobs echoed in the stillness of the vast room.

Sir Noel Thetford fell back on his pillow, a shadow as ghastly and awful
as death itself, lying on his face. But he was a brave man, and the
descendant of a fearless race, and except for one convulsive throe that
shook him from head to foot, nothing told his horror of his sudden fate.
There was a weird pause. Sir Noel lay staring straight at the oaken
wall, his bloodless face awful in its intensity of hidden feeling. Rain
and wind outside rose higher and higher, and beat clamorously at the
windows; and still above them, mighty and terrible, rose the far-off
voice of the ceaseless sea.

The doctor was the first to speak, in hushed and awe-struck tones.

"My dear Sir Noel, the time is short, and I can do little or nothing.
Shall I send for the Rev. Mr. Knight?"

The dying eyes turned upon him with a steady gaze.

"How long have I to live? I want the truth."

"Sir Noel, it is very hard, yet it must be Heaven's will. But a few
hours, I fear."

"So soon?" said the dying man. "I did not think--Send for Lady
Thetford," he cried, wildly, half raising himself again--"send for Lady
Thetford at once!"

"We have sent for her," said the doctor; "she will be here very soon.
But the clergyman, Sir Noel--the clergyman. Shall we not send for him?"

"No!" said Sir Noel, sharply. "What do I want of a clergyman? Leave me,
both of you. Stay, you can give me something, Gale, to keep up my
strength to the last? I shall need it. Now go. I want to see no one but
Lady Thetford."

"My lady has come," cried Mrs. Hilliard, starting to her feet; and at
the same moment the door was opened by Arneaud, and a lady in a
sparkling ball-dress swept in. She stood for a moment on the threshold,
looking from face to face with a bewildered air.

She was very young--scarcely twenty, and unmistakably beautiful. Taller
than common, willowy and slight, with great, dark eyes, flowing dark
curls, and a colorless