He went to the table, poured something into a glass, mixed it with
water, and brought it to the girl.
"Drink this," he said.
"I don't want to," replied Ethel.
"Drink it at once," said the doctor.
She obeyed; it was strong sal volatile and water.
"Now," he said, "you clearly understand that the duty you have to
perform to-night in this house, is absolutely to forget yourself--
obliterate yourself if necessary. Don't do one single thing that you
are told not to do, and if you can, keep your sisters in the background.
You may all be wanted at any moment, or you may not. You are not, any
of you, to go to your mother's room without my permission. Don't think
of yourselves at all. If there is any way in which you can help the
servants, do it, but do it quietly, and don't become hysterical; don't
add to the trouble in the house to-night."
"But we have all neglected her--"
"You can tell your clergyman that in the morning--you can tell your God
to-night--it is not my affair. I have to do with the present. Act now
with obedience, with utter quiet, with calm, with self-restraint. Go
down now and tell your sisters what I have said."
"I will," said Ethel. She went out of the room.
"Poor child!" thought Dr Anstruther. "I had to be hard on her to keep
her up; she'd have broken down otherwise. God grant that those girls
have not a rude awakening--they very nearly did have it--God help them,
poor things."
When Mr Aldworth and Horace returned late that evening, it was the
doctor who drew the poor husband into his own study and told him the
truth. He concealed as much as possible of the girls' conduct; he
admitted that Mrs Aldworth had been neglected during the day, but he
made the best of it.
"In any case," he said, "this attack was quite likely to come. Had
there been any one near her it might not have been so prolonged, and the
consequences would not have been so serious; but it was bound to come."
"And Marcia?" said the father then.
"Oh, she is all right, she is a brick--she is one in a thousand."