No one was by the old man to interpret these slight signs, in which lay a world of meaning.
A few weeks after Vernon had left the house, and in the midst of the restored tranquillity we have described, it so happened that Sir Miles's physician, after dining at the Hall, had been summoned to attend one of the children at the neighbouring rectory; and there he spent the night.
A little before daybreak his slumbers were disturbed; he was recalled in all haste to Laughton Hall.

For the third time, he found Sir Miles speechless.

Dalibard was by his bedside.

Lucretia had not been made aware of the seizure; for Sir Miles had previously told his valet (who of late slept in the same room) never to alarm Miss Clavering if he was taken ill.

The doctor was about to apply his usual remedies; but when he drew forth his lancet, Dalibard placed his hand on the physician's arm.
"Not this time," he said slowly, and with emphasis; "it will be his death." "Pooh, sir!" said the doctor, disdainfully.
"Do so, then; bleed him, and take the responsibility.