Celia went up to the sick-room.

She saw at a glance that the Marquess's condition had improved; he was, of course, still dangerously ill, and very weak; but his eyes, as they rested on her, were perfectly intelligent and he smiled slightly as she bent over him.

Then she turned away to Doctor Scott and told him of Mr.Clendon's arrival and desire to see the Marquess.
"I don't think he can do any harm, if he'll be quiet," said the doctor.
"At any rate, there is not sufficient reason for refusing to show the paper to the Marquess." Celia knelt beside the bed and conveyed gently Mr.Clendon's request for an interview.
"Mr.Clendon ?" repeated the Marquess, knitting his brows.

"I don't know him, my dear." Then, slowly, she showed him the paper; but he could not read the letter on it and she told him what it was.

A flush rose to the white face, and he nodded once or twice; and it seemed to Celia that the inclination of the head had in it something more than a consent to receive the visitor, an indication of some resolution, decision.