Part 21 (1/2)
An old bronzed husbandman, too, was smoking his short earthen pipe, near the window sill.
”What a study for Lanfranc!” said the happy wife, as she took up a burnt stick, and sketched his dried visage to the life.
The old man regarded his portrait on the wall, with intense satisfaction; and commenced dilating on what he had been in youth.
How different, thought Sir Henry, is all this from the conduct of a well bred English girl! yet how natural and amiable does it appear in Acme!
With what an endearing manner--with what sweet frankness--does this young foreigner wile away--what would otherwise have been--a tedious evening in an uncomfortable inn!
As the night advanced, George brought out the guitar; and Acme warbled to its accompaniment like a fairy bird.
It was a late hour, before Delme ventured to remind the songstress, that they must prosecute their journey early on the following morning.
”I will take your hint,” said Acme, as she shook his hand, and tripped out of the room; ”buona sera! miei Signori.”
”She is a dear creature!” said Delme,
”She is indeed!” replied his brother, ”and I am a fortunate man. Henry! I think I shall be jealous of you, one of these days. I do believe she loves you as well as she does me!”
The brothers retired.
Sir Henry's repose was unbroken, until morning dawned; when George entered his room in the greatest agitation, and with a face as pale as death, told him Acme was ill.
Delme arose immediately; and at George's earnest solicitation, entered the room.
Her left cheek, suffused with hectic, rested on one small hand. The other arm was thrown over the bed-clothes. Her eyes sparkled like diamonds. Her lips murmured indistinctly--the mind was evidently wandering.
A man and horse were sent express to Naples. The whole of that weary day, George Delme was by Acme's side, preparing cooling drinks, and vainly endeavouring to be calm.
As the delirium continued, she seemed to be transported to the scenes of her early youth,
As night wore on, the fever, if it were such, gradually increased.
George's state of mind bordered on distraction. Sir Henry became exceedingly alarmed, and anxious for the presence of the medical attendant.
At about four o'clock the following morning, Doctor Pormont was announced,
Cold and forbidding as was his aspect, George hailed him as his tutelary angel, and burst into tears, as he implored him to exert his skill to the uttermost.
The physician approached the invalid, and in a moment saw that the case was a critical one.
His patient was bled twice during the day, and strong opiates administered.
Towards evening, she slept; and awoke with restored consciousness, but with feelings keenly alive to her own danger.
The following night and day she lingered on, speaking but little.
During the whole of that time, even, when she slept, George's hand remained locked in hers. On this, her tears would sometimes fall, but these she strove to restrain.
To the others around her, she spoke gratefully, and with feminine softness; but her whole heart seemed to be with George.