The truth was that his "good moods"
were almost the only moments in which
she was not afraid of him. And the
moments in which she was not afraid of
him tempted her to revenge herself for her
subjection at most other times. There
were other moments when, being roused to
passionate anger, she lost fear and prudence.
But such moments were still rare in her
intercourse with the man whom she had
made the master of her fate.

She came and knelt beside him, resting
her hand on his as it hung over the
cushioned arm of his chair.

"What will you do for me at Naples?"
she asked, coaxingly.

He was about to answer: not, as it
seemed by his frowning brow and sneering
smile, very graciously: when his face
changed, he made a strange inarticulate
sound, and leaned back gasping in his chair.

Veronica flew to the bell to summon
assistance then she bathed his forehead with
some perfume from a bottle that stood near
at hand, and fanned him with her
handkerchief.

"What is it? What is the matter?"
she kept asking wildly. She reiterated her
questions when Paul came into the room.

Paul wasted no time in reassuring her.
With a swiftness very surprising and
unexpected in one whose movements were
habitually so deliberate, he loosened his
master's cravat. Then he ran to Sir John's
bedroom and returned with a travelling
flask, from which he poured a few drops of
brandy down his master's throat.

When he had done so, he answered
Veronica as calmly as though she had that
instant put some ordinary question to him.

"A faintness, miladi. He will be better
now. It is passing."

Veronica stood by, scared and trembling.
Paul fetched some cold water, and threw
it sharply on his master's cheeks and
forehead.

"Shall I not call some, of the other
servants?" said Veronica, clasping and
unclasping her hands nervously. "Someone
must be sent for a doctor."

"Better not, just yet. We shall hear
what he says. He is coming to himself."

Sir John did revive. Some semblance
of life returned to his face, which had
grown strangely livid.

His eyes fell on Veronica, and he turned
them away with a look of impatience.

"What is it?" she cried, bending over
him. "Can you not speak to me:"

Sir John feebly tried to raise his
handkerchief to his mouth, and failed. He
looked appealingly at Paul, who immediately
wiped the water from his master's
face in a steady matter-of-course way.
Still Sir John did not speak.

Paul watched him intently; and at last
said to Veronica: "You had better go
away, miladi. I shall call Ansano by-and-
by, and help Sir John to his room. He
will lie down and repose for an hour or so.
And then he will be quite well again. The
heat made him faint."

During this speech Paul kept his eyes
fixed on his master's face, and seemed to
read in it approval and confirmation of his
words: for he added almost instantly:
"Yes, yes; that is it. The heat made him
faint. It is nothing; and you had better
go away, miladi."

Veronica obeyed in bewilderment. She
was glad to escape from the room; and yet
she somewhat resented being sent away.

She was walking quickly along the
corridor that led to her own room, when she
heard a voice close behind her: " Miladi!"

Her heart leapt at the suddenness of the
sound, and she turned round in terror. It
was Paul.

"Pardon, miladi. I fear I startled you.
The matting is so soft, it deadens footsteps.
I only wanted to say that Sir John much
wishes that the other domestics should not
be told of his little indisposition. He
dislikes a fuss, he says, miladi."

"Oh he has spoken to you, then! How
is he?"

"Sir John is much better, miladi. The
heat made him faint. It is nothing."

Veronica sat down in her boudoir, and
tried to think steadily of what had just
happened. She did not believe that it had
been a mere fainting fit. There had been a
strange look in Sir John's face, unlike
anything she had ever seen before. Was he
very ill? Was he going to die?

She rose and moved restlessly about the
room. Then she stopped suddenly, and
reflected that Paul had shown no apprehension.
Paul had even recommended that
no doctor should be sent for. Paul knew
Sir John well. He must know whether
there were danger or not!

If—oh, if Sir John were going to die!

Her knees shook under her, and she
threw herself on to a sofa. She lay there.
stretched at full length, with her face
buried in the cushions; her hair pushed
aside, and her hands covering her ears, as
though to shut out some terrible sound, for
a long time.