Part 56 (1/2)
”Come, come,” said the doctor, soothingly, ”you must not excite yourself about a mere trifle. You know it is no uncommon thing, and the public don't resent it; they would be most unreasonable if they did. Singers are but mortal like themselves. No, no, you must put that out of your mind altogether.”
Lionel turned to Maurice.
”Maurice,” he said, in that husky voice, and yet with a curious, subdued eagerness, ”telegraph to Lehmann at once--at once. Doyle is all right; he has sung the part often enough. And will you send a note to Doyle; he can go into my dressing-room and take any of my things he wants; Lingard has the keys. And a telegram to mother, in case she should see something in the newspapers; tell her there is nothing the matter--only a trifling cold--”
”Really, Mr. Moore,” said the doctor, interposing, ”you must have a little care; you must calm yourself. I am sure your friend will attend to all these matters for you, but in the meantime you must exercise the greatest self-control, or you may do your throat some serious injury.
Why should you be disturbed by so common an incident in professional life? Your subst.i.tute will do well enough, and the public will greet you with all the greater favor on your return.”
”It never happened before,” the young man said, in lower tones. ”I never had to give in before.”
”Now tell me,” Dr. Whitsen continued. ”Dr. Ballardyce is your usual medical attendant, is he not?”
”I know him very well; he is an old friend of mine, but I've never had occasion to trouble him much,” was the answer, given with some greater care and reserve.
”I will call on him as I go by, and if possible we will come down together in the afternoon,” the doctor said; and then Maurice fetched him writing materials from the other room, and he sat down at the little table. Before he went, he gave some general directions; then the two friends were left alone.
Lionel took up the pencil again, and turned to the block of paper.
”The 300, Maurice,” his trembling fingers scrawled, showing how his mind was still torturing itself with those obligations.
”Oh, that's all right,” Maurice answered, lightly. ”You give me Lord Rockminster's address, and I'll take the check to him myself as soon as the doctors have been here in the afternoon. Don't you worry about that, Linn, or about anything; for you know you mustn't increase that feverishness, or we shall have you a right-down, _bona-fide_ patient on our hands; and then when will you get back to the theatre again? I am going out now to telegraph to Lehmann. But I don't think I need alarm the Winstead people; you see, they don't read the Sunday papers; and, indeed, if I send a note now to Francie, she will get it the first thing in the morning. Linn,” he continued, after a moment's hesitation, ”are you too much upset by your own affairs to listen to a bit of news? I came with the intention of telling you, but perhaps I'd better wait until you get over these present troubles.”
Lionel looked at him, with those bright, restless eyes, for a second or two, as if to gather something from his expression; and then he wrote:
”Is it about Francie?”
Maurice nodded; it was enough. Lionel stretched out his hot hand and took that of his companion.
”I am glad,” he said, in a low voice. And then, after a moment or two's thinking, he turned to his writing again: ”Well, it _is_ hard, Maurice.
I have been looking forward to this for many a day, and have been wondering how I should congratulate you both. And I get the news now--when I'm ruined. I haven't enough money even to buy a wedding-present for Francie!”
”Do you think she will mind that?” Mangan said, cheerfully. ”But I'm going to send her your good wishes, Linn--now, when I write. And look here, if she should come up to see you, or your father and mother--for it is quite possible the doctors may insist on your giving your voice a rest for a considerable while--well, if they should come up from Winstead, mind you say nothing about your monetary troubles. They needn't be mentioned to anybody, nor need they worry you; I dare say I shall be able to get something more done; it will be all right. Only, if the Winstead people should come up, don't you say anything to them about these monetary affairs, or connect me with them; for it might put me into an awkward position--you understand?”
And the last words Lionel wrote on the block of paper before Mangan went out to execute his various commissions were these:
”You are a good friend, Maurice.”
When the doctors arrived in the afternoon, Mangan had come back. They found Lionel complaining of acute headache and a burning thirst; his skin hot and dry; pulse full and quick; also, he seemed drowsy and heavy, though his eyes retained their restless brightness. There could be no doubt, as they privately informed Maurice, he was in the first stages of a violent fever; and the best thing that could be done was to get in a professional nurse at once. Yes, Mr. Mangan might communicate with his friends; his father, being himself a doctor, would judge whether it were worth while coming up just then; but, of course, it would be inadvisable to have a lot of relations crowding the sick-room.
Obviously, the immediate cause of the fever was the chill caught on the previous night, but there might have been predisposing causes; and everything calculated to excite the mind unduly was to be kept away from him. As for the throat, there were no dangerous symptoms as yet; the simple congestion would probably disappear, when the fever abated, with a return to health; but the people at the theatre might as well know that it would be a long time before Mr. Moore could return to his duties. Dr. Ballardyce would see at once about having a professional nurse sent; meanwhile, quiet, rest, and the absence of mental disturbance were the great things. And so the two augurs departed.
The moment that Mangan returned to Lionel's room, the latter glanced at him quickly and furtively.
”Are they gone, Maurice?” he whispered.
”Yes.”
”And the check--for Lord Rockminster?”
”There it is, already drawn out,” was the answer, as the slip of lilac paper was unfolded; ”but I can't take it to him until the nurse comes--certainly not.”