Part 41 (2/2)
”Is it a fever?” Mrs. Hastings asked, s.h.i.+vering and cowering in a frightened way over the wretch of a stove.
”What is it, Mallery?” Pliny asked in the same breath; while even the taciturn doctor questioned, ”What is the meaning of my imperative summons?”
For them all Theodore had prompt answers.
”No, madam”--to Mrs. Hastings--”Not a fever, I think. Pliny, I hardly know what it is--the doctor in attendance seems equally ignorant. Dr.
Arnold, if you will come with me, and these friends will wait a few moments, perhaps I can bring them an encouraging report.”
In this commotion only Dora kept white, silent lips, nerved herself as best she could for whatever this night was to bring forth, and waited.
Theodore could not resist going over to her for an instant. She turned quickly to him, and laid a small quivering hand on his arm--
”Mr. Mallery, I know _you_ will tell me _the truth_!”
”The _entire_ truth, Miss Dora, just as soon as I know it. I do not know how much the danger is; yet, meantime, flee to the Strong for strength.
Will you come, Dr. Arnold?”
Pliny followed, and the three moved silently up to the quiet chamber.
Dr. Arnold stood quietly before the sleeper--felt his pulse, bent his head and listened to the beating heart, touched with practiced fingers the swollen veins in his temples, then stood up and turned toward the waiting gentlemen.
”Well, doctor?” said Theodore, with nervous impatience, while Pliny fairly held his breath to hear the answer; it came distinct and firm from the doctor's lips--not harshly, but with terrible truthfulness:
”He is entirely beyond human aid, Mr. Mallery!”
Then the room seemed to Pliny suddenly to reel and pitch forward, and both doctors were busy, not with the father, but the son.
What a fearful night it was! Pliny's shattered nervous system was not strong enough to endure the shock. Mrs. Hastings went from one fainting fit to another, with wild shrieks of anguish between--but all sound that escaped Dora, when Theodore gently and tenderly told her ”_the_ truth,”
was, ”Oh, G.o.d, have mercy!” and the rest of that night she spent at her father's bedside, on her knees.
It was high noon before his heavy slumber changed to that unending sleep, but the change came--without word or sound or the quiver of a muscle--suddenly, touched by its Maker's hand, the busy heart _stopped_.
”Can you get through the rest of this fearful scene without me?” Dr.
Arnold asked in the afternoon when all was over. ”I must go home. I have had three telegrams this morning. Dr. Armitage is ill again, and his wife has sent for me. I will try to make all arrangements for you in the city, if you think you can get along.”
”Yes,” said Theodore, ”I can manage. Pliny is up again, you know. But, doctor, tell me what this sickness was. What was the cause of the sudden death?”
”Rum!” said the doctor, in short, stern tones. ”That is, an over-dose of brandy was the immediate cause of the fit, and the continued use of stimulants through many years the cause of the paralysis. It is just another instance of a rum murder--that's hard language, but it's true--and the son is fearfully predisposed to follow in his father's footsteps. I fear for him.”
”Pliny has overcome that predisposition at last, I hope and trust. I think he is safe now.”
”They are never safe, I think sometimes, until they are in their graves,” answered the doctor, moodily.
”Or in the 'Everlasting Arms,'” returned Theodore, reverently. But while this conversation was in progress, there was a more dangerous one going on up-stairs. Mrs. Hastings had recovered from her swoons, but was lying in a state of semi-exhaustion in her room. She raised her head languidly as she heard Pliny's step, and gave her orders for the night.
”Pliny, you will have to take the room that opens into this, for the night. I am too nervous to be left alone. Dora is going to have the room on the other side of the hall. She doesn't mind it in the least, she says. I wish I had her nerves; and, Pliny, I feel that distressing faintness every few minutes. You may order a bottle of wine brought up, then pour out a gla.s.s and set it on that light stand by my bedside; then do try to have the house quiet--the utter inconsiderateness of some people is surprising!”
Had Theodore been less occupied, or been at that moment within hearing, he would have contrived to have these orders countermanded, or at least carried out by some one besides Pliny; but he was making final arrangements with the doctor in regard to meeting him on the next morning's train, so he knew nothing about that fatal bottle of wine.
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