"
"If anything can be done, you will do it, I am sure,"
interrupted the other with warmth. "You must permit me to say,
Monsieur, as an old man may say to a young _confrere_, that it
is seldom one meets with so much coolness and skill in such a
very critical case. Nothing else could have saved----"
The voices died away as the speakers walked towards the end of
the passage. Madelon had hardly taken in the sense of the few
sentences she had heard; she was only anxious now to see
Graham and ask if she might go to her father, so she opened
her door softly and crept into the passage, meeting Horace as
he returned towards the sick-room after seeing the French
doctor off. He looked down on the little figure all pale and
ruffled in the cold grey light.
"Why, I thought you were asleep," he said. "Would you like to
see your father now? You may come in, but you must be very
quiet, for he is dozing."
"Then he is better?" said Madelon, anxiously.
Graham did not answer, he opened the door and led her in. The
room looked cheerless with the shaded night-lamp casting long
shadows, which mingles with those that the growing daylight
was chasing away.
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