Part 23 (2/2)

He therefore affected unconcern at the very time when his anxiety for a patient made him sleepless, and compelled him often, when in bed, to read medical journals with the aid of a long yellow candle, instead of spending in sleep such portions of his night-life as the sick permitted him to enjoy. He had watched Adam's whole conduct as an elder--had heard much about his labours from his village patients--and, as the result of his observations, had come to the conclusion that he was a man of a rare and right stamp. When the ”disturbance”, as it was called, about the starling agitated the community, few ever heard the Doctor express his opinion on the great question; but many listened to his loud laugh--wondering as to its meaning--when the case was mentioned, and how oddly he stroked his chin, as if to calm his merriment. Some friends who were more in his confidence heard him utter such phrases, in alluding to the matter, as ”only ministerial indigestion”, ”ecclesiastical hysteria”,--forms of evil, by the way, which are rarely dealt with in Church courts.

His attendance on the Sergeant was, therefore, a duty which was personally agreeable to him. He was not very hopeful of success, however, from the time when the fever developed into typhoid of a malignant and extremely infectious type.

The first thing which the Doctor advised, as being necessary for the Sergeant's recovery, was the procuring of a sick-nurse. Poor Katie protested against the proposal. What could any one do, she argued, that she herself was not fit for? What cared she for sleep? She never indeed at any time slept soundly--so she alleged--and could do with very little sleep at all times; she was easily wakened up--the scratch of a mouse would do it; and Adam would do _her_ bidding, for he was always so good and kind: a stranger, moreover, would but irritate him, and ”put hersel' aboot”. And who could be got to a.s.sist? Who would risk their life? Had not others their own family to attend to? Would they bring the fever into their own house? &c. ”Na, na,” she concluded, ”lee Adam tae me, and G.o.d will provide!”

So she reasoned, as one taught by observation and experience; for most people in country villages--now as then--are apt to be seized with panic in the presence of any disease p.r.o.nounced to be dangerous and contagious. Its mystery affects their imagination. It looks like a doom that cannot be averted; very purpose of G.o.d, to oppose which is vain. To procure, therefore, a nurse for the sick, except among near relations, is extremely difficult; unless it be some worthless creature who will drink the wine intended for the patient, or consume the delicacies left for his nourishment. We have known, when cholera broke out in a county town in Scotland, a stranger nurse refused even lodgings in any house within it, lest she should spread the disease!

It was a chill and gusty evening, and Katie sat beside the fire in the Sergeant's room, her mind full of ”hows” and ”whens”, and tossed to and fro by anxiety about her Adam, and questionings as to what she should or could do for his comfort. The rising wind shook the bushes and tree-tops in the little garden. The dust in clouds hurried along the street of the village. The sky was dark with gathering signs of rain. There was a depressing sadness in the world without, and little cheer in the room within. The Sergeant lay in a sort of uneasy restless doze, sometimes tossing his hands, starting up and asking where he was, and then falling back again on his pillow with a heavy sigh. Although his wife was not seriously alarmed, she was nevertheless very miserable at heart, and felt utterly lonely. But for her quiet faith in G.o.d, and the demand made upon her for active exertion, she would have yielded to pa.s.sionate grief, or fallen into sullen despair.

Her thoughts were suddenly disturbed by little Mary telling her that someone was at the street door. Bidding Mary take her place, she hastened to the kitchen and opened the door. Jock Hall entered in his usual unceremonious way.

”Ye needna speak, Mrs. Mercer,” he said as he sat down on a chair near the door; ”I ken a' aboot it!”

Katie was as much startled as she was the first time he entered her house. His appearance as to dress and respectability was, however, unquestionably improved.

”Jock Hall, as I declare!” exclaimed Katie in a whisper.

”The same, at yer service; and yet no' jist the same,” replied Jock, in as low a voice.

”Ye may say sae,” said Katie. ”What's come ower ye? Whaur hae ye been?

Whaur got ye thae claes? Ye're like a gentleman, Jock!”

”I houp sae,” replied Hall; ”I oucht to be sae; I gat a' this frae Adam.”

”The guidman?” inquired Katie; ”that's impossible! He never had claes like thae!”

”Claes or no claes,” said Jock, ”it's him I got them frae.”

”I dinna understan' hoo that could be,” said Katie.

”Nor me,” said Jock, ”but _sae_ it is, and never speer the noo _hoo_ it is. I'm come, as usual, on business.”

”Say awa',” said Katie, ”but speak laigh. It's no' shoon ye're needin', I houp?”

But we must here explain that Jock had previously called upon Dr. Scott, and thrusting his head into the surgery--his body and its new dress being concealed by the half-opened door--asked--

”Is't true that Sergeant Mercer has got a smittal fivver?”

The Doctor, who was writing some prescription, on discovering who the person was who put this question, said no more in reply than--”Deadly!

deadly! so ye need not trouble them, Jock, by begging at their door--be off!”

”Mrs. Mercer,” replied Jock, ”wull need a nurse--wull she?”

”You had better go and get your friend Mrs. Craigie for her, if that's what you are after. She'll help Mary,” replied the Doctor, in derision.

”Thank ye!” said Jock, and disappeared.

But to return to his interview with Mrs. Mercer--”I'm telt, Mrs.

<script>