"Oh, Philip, what is it, pray?"
"Don't make a fuss, darling," he said, quickly. "Be a firm little
woman. I want your help. Cold water, a big basin, sponge, brandy,
vinegar. Quick?"
Lucy made an effort to compose herself, and the prompt order had its due
effect, for she ran out, to return in a few minutes laden with all
Oldroyd had demanded.
"That's right," he said, quickly; and in answer to Lucy's inquiring
eyes, "A fit, dear. He has overdone it. Exhaustion. Brain symptoms.
Over pressure. That's well. Now, the brandy. Here, you take this card
and keep on fanning, while I bathe his head with the spirit and water.
We must cool his head. Fan away. Be calm now. A doctor's wife must
not cry. That's brave."
All the while he was applying the sponge, saturated with spirit and
water, to Alleyne's temples, and checking Lucy when she seemed disposed
to break down, the result being that she worked busily and well.
"Well done, brave little woman," he cried, encouragingly. "It is a
regular fit of exhaustion, and we must not let it come to anything more.
Give me the fan, dear. No, go on. I'll apply some more water.
Evaporates quickly, you see, and relieves the brain. Spirit stimulates,
even taken through the pores like that. Good heavens, what a mat of
hair. Quick! Scissors. I must get rid of some of this."
He now took the extemporised fan from Lucy's fingers, using it
energetically, while she rose from her knees, and ran to get a pair of
her sharpest scissors, with which Oldroyd remorselessly sheared off the
long unkempt locks from his patient's temples.
Meanwhile Alleyne lay there perfectly motionless, breathing heavily, and
with a strange fixed look in his eyes. At times a slight spasm seemed
to convulse him, but only to be succeeded by long intervals of rigidity,
during which Lucy plied the fan, gazing at her brother with
horror-stricken eyes, while Oldroyd continued the cold bathing in the
most matter-of-fact manner.
"If we could get some ice," muttered Oldroyd, as as he laid a cool hand
upon his patient's head; and just then Mrs Alleyne, looking very white
and weak, came into the room.
"I am better now," she whispered. "It was very foolish of me. What can
I do?"
"Nothing, at present," replied Oldroyd. "Yes; send to the Hall. I know
they have ice there. Ask Sir John Day to let us have some at once."
Mrs Alleyne darted an agonised look at her son, and then glided out of
the room, when Lucy looked up piteously at Oldroyd.
"Pray, pray, tell me the truth," she whispered; "does this mean--death?"
"Heaven forbid!" he replied, quickly. "It is a bad fit, but a man may
have several such as this and live to seventy. Lucy, we were looking
about for a means to a certain--keep on fanning, my dear, that's right--
certain end."
"I don't understand you," she said piteously.
"Alleyne--Glynne--to bring them together. This is her work--thinking of
her and over-toiling. Surely her place is here."
Lucy heaved a sigh, but she held her peace, and busily wafted the cool
air to her brother's forehead.
Mrs Alleyne returned, to kneel down a short distance away, in obedience
to a whisper from the doctor; and then an hour passed, and there was no
change, while hope seemed to be slowly departing from poor Lucy's eyes.
Suddenly a horse's feet were heard coming at a gallop, and a minute or
two later there was a tap at the door.
"I came on at once," said Sir John, entering on tiptoe. "My brother is
having the ice well opened, and he will be over directly with one of the
men. Now, Mr Oldroyd, what can I do? I have the cob outside. Shall
I--don't be offended, you might like help--shall I gallop over and get
Doctor Blunt."
"It is not necessary," said Oldroyd thoughtfully, "but it would be more
satisfactory to all parties. I should be glad if you could go, Sir
John."
"Yes; exactly. How is he?"
"There's no change, and not likely to be for some time," replied
Oldroyd, quietly.
Sir John looked pityingly at Alleyne, turned to Mrs Alleyne, took her
hand and pressed it gently. Then, bending over Lucy, he took her hand
in his.
"Keep a good heart, my dear," he whispered. "He'll be better soon;" and
going out on tiptoe, it hardly seemed a minute before the regular beat
of his horse's hoofs could be heard dying away in the distance.
A few minutes later the rumble of wheels was heard, and directly after
Eliza came to the door with a pail of ice.
"And Major Day's in the dining-room, please, ma'am," whispered the girl,
in a broken voice; "and is master better, and can he do anything?"
"Go and speak to him, Lucy. Here, your handkerchief first. That's
right!" said Oldroyd sharply. "Now, the smallest pieces of the ice.
That's right. Go and say--No change. Perhaps he'll sit down and wait."
As he spoke, with Mrs Alleyne's help, he was busily arranging the
smaller fragments from the pail of ice in a couple of handkerchiefs, and
applying them to his patient's head.
"There," he said, "that's better than all our fanning. Now, I hope to
see some difference."
The change was long in coming, Alleyne remaining perfectly insensible
for hour after hour. Towards evening the principal physician of the
neighbourhood arrived, and was for some time with the sick man,
returning afterwards to where Mrs Alleyne, Lucy, Sir John, and the major
were, waiting impatiently for news.
He said he was not surprised at the seizure, upon learning the history
of the case from his friend, Mr Oldroyd, upon whose treatment he could
make no change whatever.
"Then you think the worst!" cried Mrs Alleyne piteously.
"Pardon me, my dear madam; not at all. There are cases that time alone
can decide. The ailment has been growing for many months. Your son
must have had premonitory warnings, attacks of faintness, and the like;
for he had provided himself with a strong preparation of ammonia; but he
has not been leading a life that would improve the general state of his
health. Over-study and general mental anxiety have, no doubt, been the
causes of this attack; and as it has taken months to reach this
culmination, it will take a long time to bring him back to health."
"Then you think there is no danger?" said Sir John eagerly.
"I think there is great danger, Sir John; but I hope that we shall be
able to successfully ward it off."
Oldroyd and Mrs Alleyne resumed their places by the patient, the
observatory being turned into a sick chamber, and mattresses and bedding
were brought down; and there the astronomer lay, in the midst of the
trophies of his study, his instruments and his piles of notes; the great
grim tubes pointing through the opened shutters at the far-off worlds,
towards which it almost seemed as if--weary with the struggle to reach
them while chained to earth--he was about to wing his flight.
Lucy came in on tiptoe to bend forward over her brother, but Oldroyd
rose.
"Go back, dear," he said, "and get some refreshment. It is time you
dined."
"Dined!--at a time like this!" she said reproachfully.
"Yes; at a time like this. It will be a case of long nights of
watching. He must not be left, and we must have strength to attend him
through it all. Leave it to me, dear, and do as I wish."
Lucy bent down and kissed his hand in token of obedience, and soon after
joined Sir John and the major in the dining-room.
"Can I do anything else now?" said Sir John; "if not, I'll go. I
promised Glynne to go back with news as soon as there was any to carry.
Are you coming, Jem?"
"No," said the major quietly. "I'm going to stop and help, if it's only
to see that Miss Lucy here has rest and food."
Volume 3, Chapter XVI.