Chapter 85
"Hush, Anne! you don't know. The danger is that I should love your children better, far better than Maude's. It might be so if I did not guard against it."
"I cannot understand you," she exclaimed.
"Unfortunately, I understand myself only too well. I have a heavy burden to bear; do not you--my best and dearest--increase it."
She looked at him keenly; laid her hands upon him, tears gathering in her eyes. "Tell me what the burden is; tell me, Val! Let me share it."
But Val drew in again at once, alarmed at the request: and contradicted himself in the most absurd manner.
"There's nothing to share, Anne; nothing to tell."
Certainly this change was not propitiatory. Lady Hartledon, chilled and mortified, disdained to pursue the theme. Drawing herself up, she turned to go down to dinner, remarking that he might at least treat the children with more _apparent_ justice.
"I am just; at least, I wish to be just," he broke forth in impa.s.sioned tones. "But I cannot be severe with Edward and Maude."
Another powder was procured, and, amidst much fighting and resistance, was administered. Lady Hartledon was in the boy's room the first thing in the morning. One grand quality in her was, that she never visited her vexation on the children; and Edward, in spite of his unamiable behaviour, did at heart love her, whilst he despised his grandmother; one of his sources of amus.e.m.e.nt being to take off that estimable old lady's peculiarities behind her back, and send the servants into convulsions.
"You look very hot, Edward," exclaimed Lady Hartledon, as she kissed him.
"How do you feel?"
"My throat's sore, mamma, and my legs could not find a cold place all night. Feel my hand."
It was a child's answer, sufficiently expressive. An anxious look rose to her countenance.
"Are you sure your throat is sore?"
"It's very sore. I am so thirsty."
Lady Hartledon gave him some weak tea, and sent for Mr. Brook to come round as soon as possible. At breakfast she met the dowager, who had been out the previous evening during the powder episode. Lady Hartledon mentioned to her husband that she had sent a message to the doctor, not much liking Edward's symptoms.
"What's the matter with him?" asked the dowager, quickly. "What are his symptoms?"
"Nay, I may be wrong," said Lady Hartledon, with a smile. "I won't infect you with my fears, when there may be no reason for them."
The countess-dowager caught at the one word, and applied it in a manner never antic.i.p.ated. She was the same foolish old woman she had ever been; indeed, her dread of catching any disorder had only grown with the years.
And it happened, unfortunately for her peace, that the disorder which leaves its cruel traces on the most beautiful face was just then prevalent in London. Of all maladies the human frame is subject to, the vain old creature most dreaded that one. She rose up from her seat; her face turned pale, and her teeth began to chatter.
"It's small-pox! If I have a horror of one thing more than another, it's that dreadful, disfiguring malady. I
Lady Hartledon begged her to be composed, and Val smothered a laugh. The symptoms were not those of small-pox.
"How should you know?" retorted the dowager, drowning the rea.s.suring words. "How should any one know? Get Pepps here directly. Have you sent for him?"
"No," said Anne. "I have more confidence in Mr. Brook where children are concerned."
"Confidence in Brook!" shrieked the dowager, pus.h.i.+ng up her flaxen front.
"A common, overworked apothecary! Confidence in him, Lady Hartledon!
Elster's life may be in danger; he is my grandchild, and I insist on Pepps being fetched to him."
Anne sat down at once and wrote a brief note to Sir Alexander. It happened that the message sent to Mr. Brook had found that gentleman away from home, and the greater man arrived first. He looked at the child, asked a few bland questions, and wrote a prescription. He did not say what the illness might be: for he never hazarded a premature opinion.
As he was leaving the chamber, a servant accosted him.
"Lady Kirton wishes to see you, sir."
"Well, Pepps," cried she, as he advanced, having loaded herself with camphor, "what is it?"
"I do not take upon myself to p.r.o.nounce an opinion, Lady Kirton,"
rejoined the doctor, who had grown to feel irritated lately at the dowager's want of ceremony towards him. "In the early stage of a disorder it can rarely be done with certainty."
"Now don't let's have any of that professional humbug, Pepps," rejoined her ladys.h.i.+p. "You doctors know a common disorder as soon as you see it, only you think it looks wise not to say. Is it small-pox?"
"It's not impossible," said the doctor, in his wrath.
The dowager gasped.
"But I do not observe any symptoms of that malady developing themselves at present," added the doctor. "I think I may say it is not small-pox."
"Good patience, Pepps! you'll frighten me into it. It is and it isn't--what do you mean? What is it, if it's not that?"
"I may be able to tell after a second visit. Good morning, Lady Kirton,"
said he, backing out. "Take care you don't do yourself an injury with too much of that camphor. It is exciting."
In a short time Mr. Brook arrived. When he had seen the child and was alone with Lady Hartledon, she explained that the countess-dowager had wished Sir Alexander Pepps called in, and showed him the prescription just written. He read it and laid it down.
"Lady Hartledon," said he, "I must venture to disagree with that prescription. Lord Elster's symptoms are those of scarlet-fever, and it would be unwise to administer it. Sir Alexander stands of course much higher in the profession than I do, but my practice with children is larger than his."
"I feared it was scarlet-fever," answered Lady Hartledon. "What is to be done? I have every confidence in you, Mr. Brook; and were Edward my own child, I should know how to act. Do you think it would be dangerous to give him this prescription? You may speak confidentially."
"Not dangerous; it is a prescription that will do neither harm nor good. I suspect Sir Alexander could not detect the nature of the illness, and wrote this merely to gain time. It is not an infrequent custom to do so. In my opinion, not an hour should be lost in giving him a more efficacious medicine; early treatment is everything in scarlet-fever."
Lady Hartledon had been rapidly making up her mind. "Send in what you think right to be taken, immediately," she said, "and meet Sir Alexander in consultation later on."
Scarlet-fever it proved to be; not a mild form of it; and in a very few hours Lord Elster was in great danger, the throat being chiefly affected.
The house was in commotion; the dowager worse than any one in it. A complication of fears beset her: first, terror for her own safety, and next, the less abject dread that death might remove _her_ grandchild. In this latter fear she partly lost her personal fears, so far at any rate as to remain in the house; for it seemed to her that the child would inevitably die if she left it. Late in the afternoon she rushed into the presence of the doctors, who had just been holding a second consultation.
Sir Alexander Pepps recommended leeches to the throat: Mr. Brook disapproved of them. "It is the one chance for his life," said Sir Alexander.
"It is removing nearly all chance," said Mr. Brook.
Sir Alexander prevailed; and when they came forth it was understood that leeches were to be applied. But here Lady Hartledon stepped in.
"I dread leeches to the throat, Sir Alexander, if you will forgive me for saying so. I have twice seen them applied in scarlet-fever; and the patients--one a young lady, the other a child--in both cases died."
"Madam, I have given my opinion," curtly returned the physician. "They are necessary in Lord Elster's case."
"Do you approve of leeches?" cried Lady Hartledon, turning to Mr. Brook.
"Not altogether," was the cautious answer.