here emetic dangerous. In neither apoplexy bleed. Coming down by train."This message added to Mrs. Dodd's alarm; the whole treatment varied so far from what had been done. She faltered her misgivings. Osmond reassured her. "Not bleed in apoplexy!" said he superciliously; "why, it is the universal practice. Judge for yourself. You see the improvement."Mrs. Dodd admitted it.
"Then as to the cold water," said Osmond, "I would hardly advise so rough a remedy. And he is going on so well. But you can send for ice; and meantime give me a good-sized stocking."He cut and fitted it adroitly to the patient's head, then drenched it with eau-de-Cologne, and soon the head began to steam.
By-and-bye, David muttered a few incoherent words, and the anxious watchers thanked God aloud for them.
At length Mr. Osmond took leave with a cheerful countenance, and left them all grateful to him, and with a high opinion of his judgment and skill, especially Julia. She said Dr. Sampson was very amusing to talk to, but she should be sorry to trust to that rash, reckless, boisterous man in time of danger.
About two in the morning a fly drove rapidly up to the villa, and Sampson got out.
He found David pale and muttering, and his wife and children hanging over him in deep distress.
He shook hands with them in silence, and eyed the patient keenly. He took the nightcap off, removed the pillows, lowered his head, and said quietly, "This is the cold fit come on: we must not shut our eyes on the pashint. Why, what is this? he has been cupped!" And Sampson changed colour and his countenance fell.
Mrs. Dodd saw and began to tremble. "I could not hear from you; and Dr.
Short and Mr. Osmond felt quite sure: and he seems better. Oh, Dr.
Sampson, why were you not here? We have bled him as well. Oh, don't, don't, don't say it was wrong! He would have died; they said so. Oh, David! David! your wife has killed you." And she knelt and kissed his hand and implored his pardon, insensible.
Julia clung sobbing to her mother, in a vain attempt to comfort her.
Sampson groaned.
"No, no," said he: "don't go on so, my poor soul; you did all for the best; and now we must make the best of what is done. Hartshorn! brandy!
and caution! For those two assassins have tied my hands."While applying these timid remedies, he inquired if the cause was known.
They told him they knew nothing; but that David had been wrecked on the coast of France, and had fallen down senseless in the street: a clerk of Mr. Hardie's had recognised him, and brought him home: so Alfred said.
"Then the cause is mintil," said Sampson, "unless he got a blow on the hid in bein' wrecked."'
He then examined David's head carefully, and found a long scar.
"But this is not it," said he; "this is old."Mrs. Dodd clasped her hands, and assured him it was new to her: her David had no scar there when he left her last.
Pursuing his examination, Sampson found an open wound in his left shoulder.
He showed it them; and they were all as pale as the patient in a moment.
He then asked to see his coat, and soon discovered a corresponding puncture in it, which he examined long and narrowly.
"It is a stab--with a one-edged knife."
There was a simultaneous cry of horror.
"Don't alarm yourselves for that," said Sampson; "it is nothing: a mere flesh-wound. It is the vein-wound that alarms me. This school knows nothing about the paroxysms and remissions of disease. They have bled and cupped him for a _passing fit._ It has passed into the cold stage, but no quicker than it would have done without stealing a drop of blood.
To-morrow, by disease's nature, he will have another hot fit in spite of their bleeding. Then those ijjits would leech his temples; and on that paroxy** remitting by the nature of the disease, would fancy their leeches had cured it."The words were the old words, but the tone and manner was so different:
no shouting, no anger: all was spoken low and gently, and with a sort of sad and weary and worn-out air.
He ordered a kettle of hot water and a quantity of mustard, and made his preparations for the hot fit, as he called it, maintaining the intermittent and febrile character of all disease.
The patient rambled a good deal, but quite incoherently, and knew nobody.
But about eight o'clock in the morning he was quite quiet and apparently sleeping: so Mrs. Dodd stole out of the room to order some coffee for Sampson and Edward. They were nodding, worn out with watching.
Julia, whose high-strung nature could dispense with sleep on such an occasion, was on her knees praying for her father.
Suddenly there came from the bed, like a thunder-clap, two words uttered loud and furiously--"HARDIE! VILLAIN!"Up started the drowsy watchers, and rubbed their eyes. They had heard the sound, but not the sense.
Julia rose from her knees bewildered and aghast: she had caught the strange words distinctly--words that were to haunt her night and day.
They were followed immediately by a loud groan, and the stertorous breathing recommenced, and the face was no longer pale, but flushed and turgid. On this Sampson hurried Julia from the room, and, with Edward's help, placed David on a stool in the bath, and getting on a chair, discharged half a bucket of cold water on his head: the patient gasped:
another, and David shuddered, stared wildly, and put his hand to his head; a third, and he staggered to his feet.
At this moment Mrs. Dodd coming hastily into the room, he looked steadily at her, and said, "Lucy!"She ran to throw her arms round him, but Sampson interfered. "Gently!
gently!" said he; "we must have no violent emotions.""Oh, no! I will be prudent." And she stood quiet with her arms still extended, and cried for joy.
They got David to bed again, anti Sampson told Mrs. Dodd there was no danger now from the malady, but only from the remedies.
And in fact David fell into a state of weakness and exhaustion, and kept muttering unintelligibly.
Dr. Short called in the morning, and was invited to consult with Dr.
