"Live, my own dearest, live," murmured Dinah, as she knelt beside
Clive's couch, listening to his never-ending mutterings, as the fever
ran its course, and mingled with the incessant babblings about the mine,
his brother's trickery and deceit, she heard him burst into torrents of
reproaches against him who was slandering his character. Then would
come appeals and declarations of his innocency, and Dinah's tears fell
softly as he rambled on about Lyddy.
"Shame on you, Janet!" he would cry. "How could you think it of me?
That I came telling you of my love fresh from the embraces of that weak
creature. Poor Lyddy! A cruel betrayal of a weak, easily flattered
girl. I swear it was all false. To save himself. Yes: false as hell!
But I pity you, dear. You are my sister now; and I pity you."
He would calm down for a while, and then begin again, mingling his
troubles in so confused a fashion, that Dinah would grow puzzled. But
she could not tear herself away, and listened eagerly as the sick man
rambled on, and laid bare the whole of his troubled life.
Then she would writhe in her agony, as from out of the tangle her own
name would come, and he grew excited as he wandered on, going back to
hearing her sobbing in the next room, the shots pattering on the window,
and on and on to the surprise in the tunnelled pathway.
"All, all the same. So gentle and loving, but all so weak. Poor little
sweet: so beautiful. Her words would ring like music, and yet she could
throw herself into his arms. Forgive her? Yes, I must forgive her. So
weak, so hard to trust."
And then, sobbing gently, Dinah would bend over, and lay her cheek
against his aching forehead, and whisper to him to believe in her. That
there was nothing to forgive--that she was his own, and that he must
live to learn the truth or she would die.
But her tender appeals were to one who could not understand. Still they
were a solace to her, as she hung about his bed. She had him with her,
the man who loved her so tenderly, and in those secret moments, when
they were alone, often enough in the silent watches of the night, she
could fall into an ecstasy of joy, as in the abandonment of her love,
with none to know, she could draw the dear head upon her throbbing
breast, and cover his face with her kisses.
"My own, my loving husband!" she would coo softly in the midst of her
caresses, at first with burning cheeks, later on with her pulses
undisturbed, her heart suffused by a sweet placid joy which made her
beam upon him as a mother over her babe.
"Some day he will know all, and I can wait till then," she sighed, as
even in the midst of her agony of doubt as to his recovery, she revelled
in the joy of having him there insensible, ignorant of her caresses, but
still all her own.
The doctor had reached them soon after they arrived at the cottage, two
of the bearers having been stationed upon high points to intercept him
should he take any other track, and after his examination he had removed
one horror from Dinah's breast. For he declared the injury to be the
result of a fall, and hence it was not through some furious encounter
between brothers--a fratricidal strife.
But the fall, he declared, was not the sole trouble. There was fever,
brain fever, and when pressed as to the result, he only shook his head,
wisely, and said--
"We shall see--we shall see."
Then in obedience to a letter from the Major, Doctor Praed had come
down, to enter the cottage fussy, tired, and irritable.
"Most unreasonable, Major Gurdon, to bring me down to this
out-of-the-way desert to see Clive Reed. Hang him, and his brother too.
They've been the curse of my life. Dozens of important patients
waiting for me, and I leave them to come down here to see this boy.
Hang him, and his father too, sir. I wish I had never seen them.
Ruined me--almost, and I'm very glad the mine has turned out a failure,
after all."
"I am afraid you are a little tired with your journey, sir!" said the
Major stiffly.
"Tired, sir! I don't seem to have a bone left. Of course, I'm tired.
How a sane man could ever come and live in such an out-of-the-way spot,
I don't know."
"A very peaceful spot, sir, for a heart-sore man," said the Major
coldly. "I will ask you to come and see the patient as soon as you feel
refreshed."
At that moment the door opened, and Dinah, looking pale, subdued, and
anxious, appeared.
The Doctor started from his seat.
"Dinah, my child," said the Major, "Clive Reed's godfather, Doctor
Praed. Can he come up now?"
The Doctor advanced, and took her hands, raised them one by one to his
lips, and then letting them fall, he took her in his arms and kissed her
forehead reverently.
"God bless you, my dear!" he said, in a softened voice. "So you are his
tender nurse. It is you whom he spoke of as her who had made him think
the world was not all bad. Hah, yes," he continued, looking at her
curiously, "the face of an angel. Major Gurdon, forgive my petulance.
Getting old, sir. Tired and worried. I'm very glad you sent for me.
Clive is my own dear boy. I always looked upon him as a son. There,
I'm only an ignorant man, my dear," he continued, turning to Dinah with
a pitiful smile on his face, "but with God's help and yours, he shall
ask me to his wedding yet. I'll come and claim the first kiss from her
who is going to help me try and save his life. Hah! now I feel ready to
go to work. As for the other patients, Major, there are plenty of
doctors in town. I'm going to stop here with my boy Clive."
The tears coursed rapidly down Dinah's cheeks as she listened, while
Doctor Praed patted the hand he held, and smiled.
"Ah," he said, "you have no faith in me. You think I am a prattling old
man, who talks instead of acts. Come along, and let's see my patient,
only really, according to etiquette, I ought to be meeting your regular
attendant in consultation."
"He is twelve miles away, sir," said the Major rather coldly, "and
unable to get over here much. He said it was a case for nursing."
"No doubt, no doubt," said the Doctor; and he followed Dinah to the
patient's couch, and then drew up the blind and sat down by the pillow.
"Poor boy!" he said tenderly, as he took Clive's hand and noted his
hollow cheeks, large burning eyes, and the restless muttering he kept
up. "No doubt about it, my dear. That injury is nothing. Bled a good
deal, you say?"
"Terribly," whispered Dinah, with a suppressed sob.
"Weakened him, but on the whole I should say it was favourable. This is
all brain, my child. Overwork and anxiety. He must have had some
mental shock. He must have known that his fathers pet scheme had failed
before any one else had suspected the fact."
Dinah looked at him piteously, as she felt that it was her doing, as
much so as if her acts had been intentional instead of the work of
others.
"Well, this will not do," said the Doctor, replacing a tiny clinical
thermometer in its case. "His head is far too hot, and I suppose you
have no ice here. All this must come off."
He pointed to the sufferer's hair, and Dinah's face contracted with
horror.
"I can't help it, my child. Come; we must save his life. Where are
your scissors? It will be a task for you. Pooh! don't look like that,
my dear. It will all grow again."
A few minutes later, with the tears slowly trickling down her cheeks,
Dinah sat, carefully cutting off lock after lock, the Doctor looking on
impatiently.
"There," he cried at last, "you must let me do it, child. You are
snipping little bits off as if they were more precious than gold. I
tell you it must all come off at once. His head ought, to be shaved.--
Scissors."
"No, no, please. Let me," pleaded Dinah, hurriedly placing the scissors
behind her.
"Very well, then, will you cut close?"
"But must it all be cut off?"
"Every scrap, and at once. It will relieve his poor burning head. You
can save a nice curly bit. Save it all if you like."
Dinah coloured, and darted at him a resentful look, then the sound of
the scissors went on--snip, snip, as they closely sheared away the thick
hair, the fall of every lock giving the operator a sharp pang.
"Ah, that's better. Closer by the temples. The doctor you had ought to
have insisted upon all that coming off at once."
"He did," sighed Dinah; "but I pleaded so hard for it to be left that he
gave way."
"And you nearly killed the poor fellow--because you were so proud of
him, eh? But I will not reproach you. Ah, no evasion, please. Once
for all I want that hair all removed, and possibly then I may think it
necessary to operate with your father's razor--that is, if you do not do
your work well."
Dinah sighed, and went on, shivering slightly as she saw how she was
disfiguring the poor fellow, but steeling herself now to her task, till
it was thoroughly done. Then she stood back full of remorse, and
feeling that at last she had really done something which would make
Clive hate her.
"Now, we can give him a chance. The cold bandages to his head will be
of some service. The wind can blow upon them, and the evaporation will
take away a great deal of heat from the poor fellow's brain."
To Dinah's great delight their patient soon grew calmer, and the low
mutterings and tossing of the head from side to side partially subsided.
"Well, sir," said the Major that evening, after patiently waiting for
the Doctor to give him some report, "can you tell us that we may hope?"
"I will not say that," replied the Doctor. "Give me another twenty-four
hours. A fever like this is slow. I must own that he is in a very
critical condition; but do not tell your daughter that."
The Major groaned.
"If he dies it will kill her."
"He shall not die if medical knowledge can save him," said the Doctor
firmly.
"And you will stay, sir?"
"Stay? Great heavens, man, his father and I were school-fellows. His
mother was like a dear sister to me; and as for this boy, I could not
have thought more of him if he had been my own son. Stay? I sent a
message back from the station to say that the date of my return was
indefinite, and to place an old friend in charge of my practice. I
presume that you will find me an easy-chair and a crust of bread while I
am here, and I shall not go till I feel that I can leave him safely to
his nurse, or it has pleased God to take him into His rest."
The Major's breast heaved, and he held out his hand, which was firmly
grasped.
"God bless you for those words," he said, with emotion. "We must save
him for her sake."
Doctor Praed's forehead grew more wrinkled day by day; and there was a
hard, stern look in his eyes as the time slowly glided on, and the fever
fought stoutly against all the medical skill which could be brought to
bear.
And all the time he was haunted by the piteous, almost upbraiding, look
of Dinah, which wistfully followed every movement, paining the old man
so that at last he avoided it when he spoke to her; and in his ignorance
inflicted stab after stab.
"It is the great trouble which is killing him. I never could have
thought that he would care so much for money, my child. But I suppose
he felt that his honour was at stake after all that he said to his
friends who took shares in the mine. I wish you were not here."
"Why, Doctor Praed?" said Dinah faintly, as she recalled her last
parting from Clive, and thought how little the visitor knew.
"Because I should like to let my tongue run loose and say all manner of
evil things concerning that wretched mine. But I suppose I must not."
Dinah rose and laid her hand upon his arm.
"You do not talk to me about Clive," she whispered. "You cannot think
of the agony I suffer."
"I do not speak because to one like you it would be cruel to talk in the
slow, hopeful twaddle used by some of my weak brethren. My dear child,
there is nothing to say. His life is not in my hands. We can only
wait."
"But, Doctor, think, for pity's sake, think--is there nothing that can
be done? It is maddening to stand here helpless and see him gliding
slowly away from us. For he is weaker. I did hope that the quiet which
has come over him was a change for the better. I know now that it is
all increasing weakness."
"May I come in?" said the Major at the door.
The Doctor hurriedly moved to him, glad of an excuse to escape from
those pleading eyes, and followed the Major into the adjoining room.