It was many hours yet before the doctor came, for the life of one
patient is no more to a medical man than that of another, and the great
physician had several urgent cases to see before he could use the
special train placed at his disposal by Hazel's elderly lover, who had
never left the station all the morning, and had given instructions that
the starting of the train should be telegraphed to him from the terminus
in town.
In addition, he had a messenger, in the shape of Feelier's brother, who
came to and fro every hour to where Mr William Forth Burge was walking
up and down the platform, to deliver a report from Miss Burge on the
patient's state.
One of these messages was to the effect that the local doctor had been,
and said that there was no change; and that he was stopping at home on
purpose to meet the great physician when he came.
So was Mr William Forth Burge's carriage, and so was a group of the
tradespeople and others, for in the easy-going life of a little country
town the loss of a day was as nothing compared to the chance of seeing
the Queen's own physician when he came down.
At last, but not till far in the afternoon, came the lightning message
speeding along the wires, "Special left King's Cross 3:30;" and then how
slow seemed the rapid special, and by comparison how it lagged upon its
way, for it would be quite an hour and a half, the station-master said,
perhaps two hours, even at express speed.
And all this time William Forth Burge waited, and would have taken
nothing but for the thoughtfulness of the station-master's wife, who
brought him some tea.
"No, six, not yet; that's the fast down." Or, "No sir, not yet; that's
only the afternoon goods." Or again, "No sir; that's only the slow
local. They'll wire me from Marshton when she passes."
This from the chief official; and at last the wired message came, and
after what seemed to be an interminable time, a fast engine, tender, one
saloon carriage, and brake steamed into the station, and a little, quiet
dark man stepped out as the door was held open by the station-master,
waiting ready to do honour to the man greater in his power than the
magician kings of old, but very weak even then.
"Mr William Forth Burge? Thanks. Carriage waiting. Thanks. Now tell
me a little of the case."
This was mastered principally by questions as they drove to the cottage.
"Yes," said the great man. "I see. The old thing, my dear sir. What
can you expect with sanitary arrangements such as these?"
He pointed right and left as they drove along, Mr William Forth Burge
suddenly checking the driver, as they were about halfway, to pick up
Doctor Bartlett, the resident medical man.
Next followed a consultation in the wretched keeping-room of the
cottage, the great doctor treating his humble brother with the most
profound respect, and then they went up to the bedroom, and little Miss
Burge came down to her brother with her handkerchief to her eyes.
A dreary half-hour followed before the doctors came down, the two
occupants of the room gazing up at them with appeal in their eyes as
they vacated their chairs in the great man's favour.
"I can only say, Mr William Forth Burge, that we must hope," said the
great baronet. "It is the most ordinary form of typhoid fever, and must
have its course. I may add that I almost regret that you should have
called me down, unless my opinion is any comfort to you; for I can
neither add to nor detract from the skilful treatment adopted by my
_confrere_, Doctor Bartlett, who is carefully watching the case. What
we want is the best of nursing; and, at any cost, let the poor girl be
taken to some light, wholesome, airy room."
"Might we risk moving her?" panted Mr Burge.
"It is a grave risk; but it must be ventured, with the greatest care,
under Doctor Bartlett's instructions; for I have no hesitation in saying
that if our patient stays here she will die."
"God bless you, Sir Henry; I'd have given all I possess for that!"
gasped Burge, as he placed a slip of paper in the doctor's hands.
There was the drive back to the station, the little train steamed out,
and that evening, while poor Feelier Potts slept, Hazel Thorne was
carried down to the Burges' carriage, and lay that night in the west
room, to keep on talking incessantly of her cruelty to one who had been
so noble, so true, and good, and to make appeals to him for his
forgiveness, as she now knew how to value his honest love.