Domestic fiction; England -- Fiction; Mothers and sons -- Fiction; Religious fiction; Unmarried mothers -- Fiction
"No! not I! Does the woman think I had never to keep a secret of the
kind before? I only hope he'll lose his election, and never come near
the place again. After all," continued he, sighing, "I suppose it is
but human nature!" He began recalling the circumstances of his own
early life, and dreamily picturing scenes in the grey dying embers of
the fire; and he was almost startled when she stood before him, ready
equipped, grave, pale, and quiet.
"Come along!" said he. "If you're to do any good at all, it must be
in these next three days. After that, I'll ensure his life for this
bout; and mind! I shall send you home then; for he might know you,
and I'll have no excitement to throw him back again, and no sobbing
and crying from you. But now every moment your care is precious to
him. I shall tell my own story to the Bensons, as soon as I have
installed you."
Mr Donne lay in the best room of the Queen's Hotel--no one with him
but his faithful, ignorant servant, who was as much afraid of the
fever as any one else could be, but who, nevertheless, would not
leave his master--his master who had saved his life as a child, and
afterwards put him in the stables at Bellingham Hall, where he learnt
all that he knew. He stood in a farther corner of the room, watching
his delirious master with affrighted eyes, not daring to come near
him, nor yet willing to leave him.
"Oh! if that doctor would but come! He'll kill himself or me--and
them stupid servants won't stir a step over the threshold; how shall
I get over the night? Blessings on him--here's the old doctor back
again! I hear him creaking and scolding up the stairs!"
The door opened, and Mr Davis entered, followed by Ruth.
"Here's the nurse, my good man--such a nurse as there is not in the
three counties. Now, all you'll have to do is to mind what she says."
"Oh, sir! he's mortal bad! won't you stay with us through the night,
sir?"
"Look there!" whispered Mr Davis to the man, "see how she knows how
to manage him! Why, I could not do it better myself!"
She had gone up to the wild, raging figure, and with soft authority
had made him lie down: and then, placing a basin of cold water by the
bedside, she had dipped in it her pretty hands, and was laying their
cool dampness on his hot brow, speaking in a low soothing voice all
the time, in a way that acted like a charm in hushing his mad talk.
"But I will stay," said the doctor, after he had examined his
patient; "as much on her account as his! and partly to quieten the
fears of this poor, faithful fellow."
CHAPTER XXXV
Out of Darkness into Light
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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