Dr Tiddson at last, panting and out of breath; for he had run the
greater part of two miles, and upon hearing the few words Mrs Brandon
had to utter, he cast aside all the pedantry of his profession to which
he clung, and knelt down by the inanimate form.
"Every symptom of having passed through a state of fever," he said
softly. "Slightly convulsed, even now," he muttered, as from the pulse
his finger went to her face. "The candle a little nearer," he said, as
he raised an eyelid. "Yes, I thought so! Lungs seem right. I'd stake
my life she has but lately risen from a sick bed. Heaven bless the poor
child, she's worn to a skeleton! Here, quick, Edward!"
"I'm here, sir," growled the hard footman.
"Take that to my house," he said, hurriedly writing some directions.
"Run, my good man, please."
"I will, sir," said Edward huskily, as a great tear ran trickling down
his nose; "but please tell me, sir--we all liked her very much--you--you
don't think she'll die?"
"We'll hope not, Edward--we'll hope not," said the doctor solemnly.
"Now go."
Edward gave a great coarse sigh as he ran out of the room; but it was
genuine sympathy, and worth a host of fine words.
"There's something more than ordinary disease here, Mrs Brandon," said
the doctor. "We'll watch by her to-night; and if there is no change by
morning, I should like to share the responsibility, and have the counsel
of some able practitioner."
They passed that night and many more by the wasted girl's bedside,
during which time not once did she give sign of consciousness.
Occasionally a faint fluttering of the pulse seemed to tell of returning
power; but it was but a false hope held out.
An almost supernatural strength had enabled her to seek the refuge,
where she had somehow, in the darkened state of her intellect, recalled
that she would be welcome. Led almost by a subtle instinct, she had
made her way by the different lines, and then exhausted her last powers
in slowly walking over from Laneton, to sink inanimate at her
protectress's feet.
It was long before her senses had thoroughly returned, so that she could
recognise those around, and speak in the faintest whisper; but Mrs
Brandon trembled, for she judged by what she saw in the doctor's looks
that it was but the precursor of a deeper sleep.
Several times over there was a faint whisper breathed into Mrs
Brandon's ear that the sufferer had much to say; but invariably Mrs
Brandon closed those pale lips with a kiss.
"Wrong or right, my poor child," she said sadly, "rest in peace, for
this is your home."
But there was an air of trouble and appeal in Ella's face that would not
be gainsayed; and one night Mrs Brandon was seated by her side, when
her lips parted to faintly whisper:
"If I am to go, let me know that you all believe in me."
As she spoke, her trembling little hand drew a large envelope from
beneath her pillow--a crumpled and bruised envelope.
"Do you wish me to read this?" said Mrs Brandon tenderly.