Читать книгу The Man with a Shadow - Fenn George Manville - Страница 17

“I feared it,” said North, as he returned from the bedroom, where he had left Leo with the servants, who stood staring helplessly at her, and listening to her ravings about the mare, the plunge into the cold river, and the injured shoulder. “Violent fever and delirium. Poor girl! what could we expect? Heated with her ride, the fall, the sudden plunge into the water, and then a long, slow ride in the drenched garments.”

“Do you think she is very ill?” said Mary anxiously.

“Very; but not dangerously, I hope. There, trust to me, and I will do everything I can. You must have a good nurse at once. Those women are worse than useless. I’ll send on my housekeeper.”

“But you are not going?” cried Salis, with the look of alarm so commonly directed at a doctor.

“My dear boy – only to fetch medicine. I’ll not be long; and mind this: she must not leave her room now. She must be kept there at any cost.”

“And I am so helpless, Hartley,” whispered Mary piteously. “It is so hard to bear.”

The curate bent down and kissed her, and then, taking his place by the bedroom door, he remained to carry out the instructions he had received.

They were necessary, for he had not been there five minutes before the delirious girl rose from her couch, and there was an angry outcry on the part of the women. She insisted upon going to the stable to see to her mare. It was being neglected; and it was only by the exercise of force that she was kept in the room.

Before half-an-hour had passed, the doctor was back, and quiet, firm Mrs Milt, who put off her crotchety ways in the face of this trouble, took her place by the bedside, and with good effect; for, partly soothed by the old woman’s firm management, and partly by the strong opiate the doctor had administered, Leo sank into a restless sleep, in which she kept on muttering incoherently, the only portions of her speech at all connected being those dealing with her accident, which seemed to her to be repeated again and again.

It was towards ten o’clock, as the doctor was returning by the short cut of the fields to the Rectory, after having been home for a short time, that he caught sight of a couple of figures a short distance over the stile leading down to the meadows, through which the little river ran.

“Humph!” he muttered, as, in spite of the darkness, he recognised the figures, his own steps being hushed by the moist pasture, and the couple too intent upon their conversation to hear him pass.

“Humph!” he said; “poor old Moredock is right, perhaps, about the girl. Confounded hard upon the people to have such a scoundrel loose among them.”

He half-hesitated, as if he felt that it was his duty to interfere, but there was too much earnest work at the Rectory for him to speak at a time like this. And, besides, he could not have explained why, but the thought seemed to afford him something like satisfaction, for it was evident that if Tom Candlish had stooped to court pretty Dally Watlock, the Rectory servant, everything must have long been at an end between Leo and the squire’s brother, the thrashing administered by Mr Salis having been effectual in its way.

He was extremely anxious, too, about Leo; for unconsciously a new interest was awakening in him, and he felt that no case in which he had been engaged had ever caused him more anxiety than this. So he hurried on to his patient’s room, where the fever was growing more intense, and the flushed face was rolled from side to side upon the white pillow.

“Just the same, sir,” said Mrs Milt, as he asked a few eager questions. “She’s been going on like that ever since you left. Isn’t she very bad? Hark at her breath.”

“Very bad, Milt,” said the doctor gravely; “and if matters go on like this I shall send over to King’s Hampton for – ”

“No, no; don’t you do that, sir,” said the old housekeeper sharply. “If you can’t save her no one can.”

“Why, Milt!” exclaimed the doctor wonderingly.

“Oh! you needn’t look like that, sir. I know you. It’s a deal of wherrit you give me with your awkward ways and irregular hours; but I will say this for you, there isn’t a cleverer doctor going.”

“And yet you walked over to King’s Hampton to the other doctor when you were ill.”

“Well, you had put me out so just then, and I felt as if I would sooner have died than come to you.”

“Ugh! you obstinate old thing,” said North. “There, I’m going down to talk to Mr Salis for a while; then I shall come and take your place for six hours while you go and lie down.”

“Oh!” ejaculated Mrs Milt; and she tightened her lips and remained silent for a few moments, while her master re-examined his patient. Then, drawing herself up: “I may be obstinate, sir, but I think I know my duty in a case of illness. I’m here to watch by Miss Leo Salis’s bedside, and here I’m going to stay.”

“Mrs Milt,” said the doctor sternly, “the first duty of a nurse is to obey instructions, as you well know. Now, no more talking, but sit down till I return.”

Mrs Milt looked tighter than ever, and her rigid stay-bone gave a crack, but she obeyed; while the doctor went down to where Salis and Mary were anxiously awaiting his report.

“I meant to have had some tea ready for you,” said Mary, after hearing what he had to say; “but Dally is missing. She must have gone to her grandfather’s cottage.”

The doctor uttered a loud “Humph!” and then remarked that he could wait.

He had to wait some time, as Dally had gone to keep an appointment in the meadows, and had come upon a figure leaning against a great willow pollard on the river’s brink.

The figure started forward out of the darkness and caught her arm, with the result that Dally uttered a little affected squeal.

“La, Mr Candlish! how you made me jump!”

“Why, what brings you here?” he cried, passing his arm round the girl’s waist.

“Now, do adone, sir; you’ve no business to touch me like that. What would Joe Chegg say?”

“That I was a wise man, and that it was the prettiest little waist in Duke’s Hampton.”

“Please keep your fine speeches for Miss Leo, and talk about her waist, sir, and let me go. I only come for a walk.”

“Nonsense! tell me. You’ve got a message?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“You – you have a letter?”

“No,” said Dally, shaking her head, and struggling just a little for appearance’ sake.

“Is she coming, then?”

“No, she isn’t; for she’s too ill.”

“Eh? Nonsense!”

“But indeed she is, sir, and confined to her bed.”

“And she sent you, Dally. Oh! how good of her.”

“No, nor she didn’t send me neither, Mr Candlish; and do let go. You shouldn’t.”

“Has she caught a cold, Dally?”

“Horrid bad one; and she’s gone right off her head.”

“Gammon!”

“She has, indeed, sir; and me and cook had to hold her down: she was so bad.”

“Hold her down?”

“Yes; and she kept on talking in a hurry like, all about the hunting and falling in the water.”

“Did she say anything about me?” said Tom Candlish eagerly.

“About you? I should think not, indeed. You men seem to think that ladies are always thinking about you. Such stuff!”

Then a long amount of whispering took place, Tom Candlish being one of those gentlemen who never fret after the absent, but possess a sailor-like power of taking the good the gods provide.

At the end of five minutes there was the sound of a smart smack – not a kiss, but the contact of a palm upon a cheek.

Then, from out the darkness came the expression, “You saucy jade!” following upon the rush of feet in flight.

A minute later the swing gate leading into the Rectory grounds was heard to clap to, and Tom Candlish stopped in his pursuit and walked home across the fields.