Luttrell Of Arran Part 65

"No, no, Sir Within. You are too unjust--quite too unjust in all this."

The old Baronet never heard the interruption, but went on:

"But, Sir, if I have scorned to make explanations to the first gentry of my neighbourhood, it is not likely I will descend to them for the satisfaction of a village doctor. Go, Sir--go! but at your peril one word to gratify the slanderous temper of your clients; for if I hear that you have dared to insinuate, however faintly--"

The Doctor did not wait for him to finish, but hurried down the stairs, crossed the hall, and hastened to the stable-yard; and in a very few minutes the sharp sound of his horse's feet on the ground declared that he was off at speed.

Sir Within had sunk into the chair beside the door from which the Doctor had just issued, powerless and overcome. The outburst of pa.s.sion, what had been but one exit of an overwhelming sorrow, had run its course, and now he sat there wretched and forlorn. Of his late altercation he remembered positively nothing. Something had occurred--something that excited and agitated him. The Doctor had said, or somebody had said, he knew not what; but it shadowed forth a sort of reflection on him--for Heaven knows what; and he wiped the cold perspiration from his brow, and tried to collect himself. At last he arose and rang the bell.

"Will you tell Doctor Price I should like to speak to him," said he, in his usual bland tone.

"The Doctor is gone, Sir Within; he left the Castle half an hour ago."

He nodded; and the servant retired. After a little while he rang again.

"Let Doctor Price know I wish to see him before he goes away," said he, in a faint voice.

"The Doctor left the Castle some time back, Sir Within," said the man, in some astonishment.

"Ah!--very true--I remember: that will do." Once more alone, he tried to remember what had just occurred--but he could not; and, with weary steps, he mounted the stairs slowly towards the corridor where the sick chamber stood.

"She is sleeping, Sir Within," said the nurse, who sat outside the door to enforce silence--"sleeping, but dreaming and wandering on continually; and such strange things, too, she says."

"What does she talk of, nurse?" said he, scarcely conscious of what he asked.

"She be talking, Sir, of being a-gathering seaweed on the rocks, and crying out to some one to take care--that the tide is gaining fast. 'It will be soon in on us!' she cries every moment; 'make haste, Patsey, or we'll lose it all?' And then she'll wring her hair, as if there was water in it, and tie it up short afterwards on the back of her head. I never see a young lady go on the same way before!"

"Wandering?--mere wandering?" said Sir Within, faintly. "Of course it be, Sir Within; but ain't it a strange sort of wandering for one bred and brought up as she was?"

"When people rave, they rave," said Sir Within, curtly. "Yes, Sir, so they does; but people born to every comfort and the like seldom talks of going out to look for firewood, or to bring home the goats from the mountains; and that poor sweet dear there won't think of anything else."

"You are a fool, ma'am, or you would never think of attaching importance to what a patient raves about in a fever. I wonder Doctor Price could not have found a more competent person." And with this rebuke he retraced his steps, and sought his own room.

As he sat there, a servant entered with a note Doctor Price's servant had just brought. He tore it open impatiently, and read:

"Dear Sir,--I have accidentally heard that Sir Henry Morland will be at Wrexham this evening. If it be your wish to see him at Dalradern, pray inform me by the bearer.

"Very respectfully your Servant,

"Pritchard Price."

Sir Within at once addressed a most curt and conciliatory note to Doctor Price, requesting to see him and his colleague as soon as would suit his convenience. That there was something for which an apology was needed, he knew; but what it was, how it occurred, or why it occurred, was totally beyond him; his note, however, was polite in every respect, and its conclusion actually friendly. Doctor Price, however, did not make his appearance, but towards midnight a post-chaise drove into the court-yard, and the great town Physician entered the castle. He was a short, stout-built, heavy-browed man, stern, and almost peremptory in his manner, reserving all his mind for his patient, and scarcely condescending to notice the friends of the sick person.

"Who is it?" asked he bluntly of Sir Within, as the old envoy politely handed him a chair.

"My ward, Sir Henry, a young lady not fully seventeen."

"Humph! I did not know you were married."

"I am not married, Sir. I was not aware that we were discussing that question."

"Let me speak with your sister, then?"

"I have no sister, Sir."

"I don't care what the relative is--cousin, aunt, grandmother--if not too old."

"I reject, Sir, I have no female relative here to whom I can refer you.

I shall send for my housekeeper, however, who is a most intelligent person;" and he rang the bell hurriedly.

"And this ward--strange thing a ward in the house of an unmarried man--what's her name?"

"Miss O'Hara."

"O'Hara! O'Hara! One of the Antrim family?"

"No, Sir; no connexion even."

"Oh, this is the housekeeper! Show me your patient, and tell me about the case as we go along;" and abruptly returning Sir Within's salutation, he left the room, and proceeded up-stairs. "Yes, yes," he muttered, as the housekeeper recounted the symptoms. "Yes; I know all that: but I want to hear how it began. Was there any shock--any accident? None? Mere fatigue--a long ride--over-exertion--a very hot day! Yes, yes, quite common--answers at first collectively, and then goes off raving--that's enough!"

The rough ungracious man, abrupt of speech, and actually rude in manner, became gentle as a woman as he stole up to the bedside and laid his hand on the hot and burning forehead. She raised her hand, tremulous with fever, and placed it upon his, and said: "Yes; the pain is there!"

"Let us see if we cannot cure it," said he softly, as he sat down beside the bed.

She turned her large l.u.s.trous eyes upon him--brightened as they were in the glow of fever--and stared at him steadfastly and long. He was counting her pulse, and she watched his lips as they faintly stirred, as though she could read her fate in their motion.

"Well?" cried she--"well?"

"Well, you are about to get better, my dear child; the fever is decreasing, and your head freer."

"Yes," said she, hurriedly, "the horrid fancies that torment me are pa.s.sing away, and I can think now. Who are you?" asked she, after a pause.

"I am your doctor."

"But your name? I never saw you before."

"I know that! This is my first visit to you. My name is Morland."

"Morland--Morland--I have read that name in the newspapers. Sir William, or Sir something."

"Sir Henry Morland."

"Physician to the King, I declare," said she, raising herself on one arm to look at him; "and you have come here, all this way, to see me!"

"And very well worth my while it was. It is not every day I chance upon so interesting a patient."

"How kind you are--how pleasant your voice is; it soothes me to listen to it."

"But we must not talk any more now, my child."