w up."

While speaking, Dr. Knott kept his gaze fixed upon his companion. His
humour was none of the gentlest truly, yet he did not let that obscure
the main issue. He had business with Clara, and merely waited till the
reds and whites of her comely face should have resumed their more
normal relations before pursuing it. He talked, as much to afford her
opportunity to overcome her emotion, as to give relief to his own.
Though now well on the wrong side of sixty, John Knott was hale and
vigorous as ever. His rough-hewn countenance bore even closer
resemblance, perhaps, to that of some stone gargoyle carved on
cathedral buttress or spout. But his hand was no less skilful, his
tongue no less ready in denunciation of all he reckoned humbug, his
heart no less deeply touched, for all his superficial irascibility, by
the pains, and sins, and grinding miseries, of poor humanity than of
old.

"That's right now," he said approvingly, as the heaving of Clara's
bosom became less pronounced. "Wipe your eyes, and keep your nerves
steady. You've got a head on your shoulders--always had. Well, keep it
screwed on the right way, for you'll need all the common sense that is
in it if we are to pull Lady Calmady through. Do?--To begin with this,
give her food every two hours or so. Coax her, scold her, reason with
her, cry even.--After all, I give you leave to, just a little, if that
will serve your purpose and not make your hand shake--only make her
take nourishment. If you don't wind up the clock regularly, some fine
morning you'll find the wheels have run down."

"But her ladyship won't have any one sit up with her."

"Very well, then sleep next door. Only go in at twelve and two, and
again between five and six."

"But she won't have anybody occupy the dressing-room. It used to be the
night nursery you remember, sir, and not a thing in it has been touched
since Sir Richard moved down to the gun-room wing."

"Oh, fiddle-de-dee! It's just got to be touched now, then. I can't be
bothered with sentiment when it's ten to one whether I save my
patient."

Again sobs rose in Clara's throat. The poor woman was hard pressed. But
that fixed gaze from beneath the shaggy eyebrows was upon her, and,
with quaint gurglings, she fought down the sobs.

"My lady's as gentle as a lamb," she said, "and I'd give the last drop
of my blood for her. But talk of managing her, of making her do
anything, as well try to manage the wind, she's that set in h