234
WYLDER'S HAJVD.
So saying, Rachel left the room, and gliding through
passages, and down stairs, she knocked at Stanley's door.
The old woman opened it.
"Ah, Dorothy! I'm so glad to see you here ;" and
she put a present into her hard, crumpled hand.
So, noiselessly, Rachel Lake, without more parley, step-
ped into the room, and closed' the door. She was alone
with Stanley.
The room was not so dark that she could not see dis-
tinctly enough.
There lay her brother, , such as he was — still her broth-
er, on the bleak, nuetral ground between life and death.
He did not move, but his strange eyes gazed cold and ear-
nest from their deep sockets upon her face in awful si-
lence. Perhaps he thought he saw a phantom.
"Are you better, dear?" whispered Rachel.
His lips stirred and his throat, but he did not speak
until a second effort brought utterance, and he murmured,
"Is that you, Radie?"
"Yes, dear. Are you better?"
"No. I'm shot. I shall die to-night. Is it night
yet?"
"Don't despair, Stanley, dear. The great London doc-
tor, Sir Francis Seddley, will be with you early in the
morning, and Chelford has great confidence in him. I'm
sure he will relieve you."
"This is Brandon?" murmured Lake.
"Yes, dear."
She thought he was going to say more, but he remain-
ed silent, and she recollected that he ought not to speak,
and also that she had that to say which must be said.
"Oh, Stanley! you say you think you are dying.
Won't you send for William Wylder and Chelford, and
- tell all you know of Mark?"