"If there is anything you can do I will let you know."
Their eyes met. His were gray and steady, but kind. She felt that he chose to treat her like a child, yet that he was trying to be considerate. She was galled, but after all, he was the doctor, and Wilbur had the utmost confidence in him, so she must submit. She ate her dinner, and when she returned preparations were being made for the night. The nurse was to use a lounge at the foot of Wilbur's bed. Dr. Page asked permission to occupy the dressing-room adjoining, so as to be within easy call. He established himself there with a book, returning at short intervals to look at his patient. Selma had resumed her seat. It was dark save for a night lamp. In the stillness the only sounds were the ticking of the clock on the mantel-piece and Wilbur's labored breathing. It seemed as though he were struggling for his life. What should she do if he died? Why was she debarred from tending him? It was cruel. Tears fell on her hand. She stared into the darkness, twisting her fingers, until at last, as though to show her independence, she stepped to the bed on tip-toe. Wilbur's eyes were open. He put out his hand, and, taking hers, touched it to his burning lips.
She stooped and kissed his brow. "I am here beside you, Wilbur."
A figure stood behind her. She turned, expecting to encounter the white-capped sentinel. It was Dr. Page. He touched her gently on the arm. "We must let him rest now. You can do no good. Won't you go to bed?"
"Oh, no. I shall sit with him all night."
"Very well. But it is important that you should not speak to him," he said with another touch of emphasis.
She resumed her seat and sat out the night, wide-awake and conscious of each movement on Wilbur's part. He was restless and moaning. Twice the nurse summoned the doctor, and two or three times he came to the bed-side of his own accord. She felt slighted, and once, when it seemed to her that Wilbur was in distress and anxious for something, she forestalled the nurse.
"He wishes water," Selma said sternly, and she fetched a glass from the table and let him drink.
Dr. Page took breakfast with her. She was conscious that somehow her vigil had affected his estimate of her, for his speech was frank and direct, as though he considered her now more fit to be treated with confidence.