Pale and agitated, Mrs Norton hurried out, followed by the Captain, for
Brace's long absence had been causing them great uneasiness; but Mrs
Norton's agitation increased to a painful degree as soon as she saw in
what company he had: returned. Isa's state was the first consideration;
and dismissing every other thought, the insensible girl was borne to a
bed-room by Captain Norton, as reverently as if she had been something
holy, his lip quivering as he marked in the sweet features the
lineaments of the one whom he had so fondly loved. Whilst, with all a
mother's care, Mrs Norton tended her, taking the first steps towards
insuring the poor girl's recovery--steps but for which the services of
Dr Challen, for whom McCray had directly galloped off, would have been
in vain.
An hour after, when Isa had begun to show signs of returning animation,
her wondering eyes ranging from face to face--letting them rest longest
upon the soft, motherly countenance bent over her to kiss her so
tenderly--there came the sound of wheels, and Dr Challen hurried up to
the bedside, to express his approval of what had been done.
"And noo I must go and tell Sir Mooray," said McCray to Captain Norton.
"I thought I'd get the doctor first."
"I sent a groom directly you had gone," said the Captain.
"'Deed and you did weel," said McCray; "but I must stay here and face
him, sir, for he'll be over directly with my laird, there, like twa
roarin and rampagin' lions."
In effect, five minutes after, there was again the sound of rapid
wheels, followed directly after by Sir Murray Gernon's voice in the
hall.
"How dared you to bring her here?" he exclaimed, in a hoarse, harsh
voice, to his old retainer, who met him boldly on the step.
"'Deed, Sir Mooray, so as to save the dear bairn's life, and not have to
face ye wi' a cauld dead bodie. It was a case of seconds, Sir Mooray,
and I ken ye wadna ha'e likit for me to bring the puir laddie wha savit
her from drownin' to the Castle."
"And who saved her?" exclaimed Sir Murray.
"Hoot! Sir Mooray, naebodie else but the douce sailor laddie ye passed
camin' hame, when the chaise was broke up."
A bitter epithet was hissed from Sir Murray Gernon's lips, as he
listened to this announcement; for to his excited imagination it seemed
as if Fate were struggling against him and striving to bring together
two who, could he contrive it, should be through life as far removed, to
all intents and purposes, one from the other, as the two poles.
Sir Murray ascended to the bed-room, and then descended to pace
impatiently up and down, frowning and angry, till, after seeing his
patient sink into a quiet slumber, Dr Challen gave a sigh of
satisfaction, and then joined the baronet.
"What?" exclaimed the doctor, after listening to Sir Murray's first
remark.
"She must be taken home directly," said Sir Murray.
"Quite out of the question, my dear Sir Murray," said the doctor,
pleasantly, as he partook of the glass of wine left upon the sideboard.
"But the carriage is waiting, Challen," said Sir Murray. "I came over
in the close carriage on purpose. Surely if she is lifted in and driven
slowly it cannot hurt her."
"Now look here, Gernon," said the doctor, sturdily, "I brought that
child into the world, and saved her life, sir--saved her life, when not
half-a-dozen doctors in England could have done it. I've been your--
Capital glass of port, by Jove! Try one. You won't? Very good; I
will. Let's see--what was I saying? Ah! I've been your family medical
attendant ever since I began to practise, and save and except such times
as you chose to go abroad and put yourself into the hands of foreign
poisoners, I've had your welfare at heart. Now, I'm a crotchety old
fellow--better try a glass of Norton's port: I'll swear it's '20
vintage--crotchety old fellow--over professional matters; and if the
Queen herself came meddling in a sick-room where I was engaged, I'd
order her out as soon as look at her: ergo, I'm not at all afraid of a
baronet."
Sir Murray made a gesture of impatience.
"There, confound you, sir," cried the doctor, testily, "I don't care for
your fuming--I'm not going to give way. Now, look here, Gernon: you
ought to have more confidence in me, and in what I say. I don't want to
boast; but I saved your life; I saved your wife's life; and, as
aforesaid, I saved the life of that child up-stairs when it was a tiny
spark that a breath would have destroyed. I'm proud of it, you see.
Now you want to kill her, because she is here in the house of the people
you most dislike in the world--out-and-out good sort of people, and good
friends of mine, all the same. Can't help it--I must speak plain. This
is a case where plain speaking is necessary, so you need not fling
about. You must sink all these family quarrels, and thank Heaven that
the poor child was brought here, where there was a clever, sensible
woman like Mrs Norton to take the first steps towards warding off
fever."
"But, surely, Challen," exclaimed Sir Murray, deprecatingly now, "with
plenty of wrapping, and the carriage!"
"My good man," cried the doctor, now thoroughly angry, "if you will be
obstinate, and want her to have plenty of wrapping, go and fetch a lead
coffin, and if she is to go in a carriage, send old McCray over to
Marshton for Downing's hearse. It will be the most sensible thing you
can do; for she will be dead before she gets home, or soon after. What
the deuce is the use of your talking? Do you think I want her to stay
here, or that I take two straws' worth of interest in your confounded
affairs and squabbles? That child's life is the first consideration. I
won't put up with it, Gernon--I won't indeed. How dare you interfere
and want to meddle with things which you don't understand? That child's
constitution is not a political matter for you to meddle with. Why,
confound you, sir, here we have just got her into as lovely a
perspiration as ever I saw upon a human subject! There's the threatened
fever evaporating, as it were, from her system, and she sleeping
gloriously, when you must come in with your family pride, and want to
destroy all that I have done! I tell you what it is--"
"My dear Challen," exclaimed Sir Murray, "I don't want to upset your
arrangements. I only thought--"
"Confound you, sir! how dare you to think, here, in a case of life and
death? It's a piece of consequential, confounded, titled presumption--
that's what it is!"
There was no mistaking, either, that Mr Challen was in a professional
passion; for, as he said, "in matters of medicine he would give way to
none," while being, certainly, a very clever practitioner, and well
knowing that fact, he was somewhat ready to leap upon his own little
hill, and to crow loudly. He had just descended, proud and elate with
the state in which he had left his patient, when, as he mentally termed
it, this impertinent interference on the part of Sir Murray made him
erect all his hackles, and give battle most furiously for his rights.
"There, there! Don't be angry, Challen," said the baronet. "I give
way--I suppose I must bear it."
"Bear it! Of course you must," said the doctor. "I tell you what it
is, Sir Murray Gernon: I was within a point of throwing up the case, and
leaving you in the hands of that offensive wholesale killer at
Marshton--that new man. I was only restrained by a feeling of respect
for the poor child. But I'll give up now, if you wish it."
"My dear Challen," cried Sir Murray, "pray don't be so impetuous. I say
no more. Have it all as you wish."
"Say no more! Of course you will not!" grumbled the doctor, whose
feathers were gradually subsiding to their natural smoothness.
"Only," continued Sir Murray, "get her well, and let us have her home as
soon as possible."
"There you go again!" cried the doctor, bristling up once more. "The
old story! I suppose you think I want to keep her ill, so as to swell
the bill, with `One draught at bed-time,' and `The mixture as before.'
Ugh! It's a pity, Sir Murray Gernon, you have not a dozen people about
you who are like me--not in the least afraid of you. What are you going
to do now?"
"Going back," said Sir Murray, who had just risen.
"Going back, indeed!" said the doctor, impatiently. "Better stay--stay,
and see how she is when she wakes. Let's have Norton in and Mrs
Norton, and perhaps their son will join: he's none the worse--used to
water--salt, fresh, or marshy. A tumbler of punch and a rubber at whist
would pass the time away comfortably. There, hang it, man, twenty years
ought to be long enough to heal up these old wounds. They'll have to be
healed up when you journey to the great abroad. Take my advice--advice
I shan't charge you anything for. Norton's boy has saved your girl's
life. Let this unlucky accident be the means of bringing you together--
good out of evil, you know. Hold out the right hand of fellowship,
and--trust me--I know Norton; it will be taken in a hearty grasp. Make
friends at once, Gernon; you'll be obliged to do it in heaven. Oh!
there, then, I've done. Advice gratis is never valued at its true
worth."
"Let me know, Challen, how all goes on when you leave here," said Sir
Murray, sternly, as he strode towards the door; and five minutes after
the doctor shrugged his shoulders and took another glass of port to
console himself for the rejection of his good offices, as he listened to
the wheels of the departing carriage.
"I'm afraid," he said aloud, "contact with all sorts of people has
robbed me of this refined sensibility--this keen appreciation of injury.
I fancy if any one had done me a wrong, that I could forgive it in less
than twenty years."
"But there never was any wrong, Doctor," said a low, sweet voice, when,
turning, Dr Challen became aware that Mrs Norton had entered
unperceived.
Book 2, Chapter X.