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Sampson, when he came, found the ladies weeping by the bedside.
They greeted him with affection, Julia especially: the boisterous
controversialist had come out a gentle, zealous artist in presence of a
real danger.
Dr. Sampson knew nothing of what had happened in his absence. He stepped
to the bedside cheerfully, and the ladies' eyes were bent keenly on his
face in silence.
He had no sooner cast eyes on David than his countenance fell, and his
hard but expressive features filled with concern.
That was enough for Mrs. Dodd. "And he does not know me," she cried: "he
does not know my voice. _His_ voice would call me back from the grave
itself. He is dying. He will never speak to me again. Oh, my poor orphan
girl!"
"No! no!" said Samson, "you are quite mistaken: he will not die. But----"
His tongue said no more. His grave and sombre face spoke volumes.

CHAPTER XXII
To return to the bank. Skinner came back from the Dodds' that miserable
afternoon in a state of genuine agitation and regret. He was human, and
therefore mixed, and their desolation had shocked him.


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