The Surgeon's Guest by Stanley J. Weyman

It was characteristic of both Pleasance and her father -- and particularly characteristic of the latter -- that when they met at breakfast next morning they ignored the trouble which had seemed so overwhelming at midnight. The doctor was constitutionally careless. It was his nature to live from day to day, plucking the flowers beside his path, without giving thought to the direction in which the path was leading him. Pleasance was careless too, but with a difference. She did not shut her eyes to the prospect; but she was young and sanguine, and she was confident -- of a morning at any rate -- that a way of escape would be found. So the doctor gazed through the window as cheerfully as if his title-deeds had been his own; and if Pleasance felt any misgivings, they related rather to the man lying in the next room than to her own case.

"How is he, father? " she asked. "Have you been kept awake much? " The doctor had spent the night on a sofa in order that he might be near the stranger.