e doctor and the surgeon, descending the stairs; she rose and
went to meet them, yet said never a word.

She watched their faces; she saw that they looked grave. She saw that
the face of the great man was worn and tired. She looked in vain for
something that would whisper the word "Hope" to her.

"Miss Linden is engaged to Mr. Arundel," the local doctor said.

The great man held out his hand to her. He knew so well, how many
thousands of times had he seen, that same look of questioning, pitiful
in its dumbness.

He held her hand closely, "There is hope. That is all I care say to
you--just a hope, and that is all."

It was all that he dared to say, the utmost to which he could go. He
knew that false hopes, raised only to be crushed, were cruelty. And he
had never done that, never would. "There is yet one ray of hope. He may
live; I can say no more than that, Miss Linden."

And, little though it was, it was almost more than she had dared to hope
for.

CHAPTER XLI

MR. RUNDLE TAKES A HAND

Battered and sorely bruised, Philip Slotman lay on his bed in the
Feathers Inn in Little Langbourne, and cursed his luck. Every time he
moved he swore to himself.

He was hurt in mind, body, and estate; he was consumed by a great rage
and a sense of injury. He had suffered, and someone should pay--Joan
mainly, after Joan, Hugh Alston. But it would be safer to make Joan pay.
Not in money. Alston had insisted on it that he had nothing to expect in
the way of cash from Miss Meredyth.

Slotman lay writhing, and cursing and planning vengeance. There were few
things that he would not have liked to do to Hugh Alston, but finally he
decided he could better hurt Hugh Alston through Joan, so thereafter he
devoted his thoughts to Joan.

The church bells of Little Langbourne Church were ringing pleasantly
when Philip Slotman, with many a grunt and inward groan, rose from his
couch.

Except for a slight discoloration about the left eye and a certain
stiffness of gait, there was nothing about Philip Slotman when he came
down to the coffee-room for his breakfast to suggest that he had seen so
much trouble the previous evening. But there were some who had seen
Slotman come in, and among them was the waiter. He put his hand over his
mouth, and smirked now at the sight of Slotman, and Slotman noticed it.

The bells rang no message of peace and good-will to Mr. Slotman this
morning.

Yes, Joan would be the one. He would make her