Volume One—Chapter Ten.Up to the Weir.“That’s the style. Hold her tight, Monnick.—Now, auntie, you first. Steady; that’s the way. You won’t swamp her.”“But it gives way so, James, my dear,” said Aunt Sophia nervously.“There you are. Sit down at once. Never stand up in a boat.—Is the cushion all right? That’s the way.—Now, Naomi.—Hand her in, Jack.—Come along, Kitty.”Lady Scarlett gave her hand to her husband as soon as Naomi Raleigh was in, and stepped lightly from the gunwale to one thwart, and then took her place beside Aunt Sophia, Naomi being on the other.“Arthur, old fellow, you’d better sit behind them and ship the rudder. Shorten the lines, and you can steer.—Ready, Jack?” he said as Prayle stepped into the boat and sat down on a thwart behind the ladies.“Oh!” cried Aunt Sophia with a little scream; “take him out; he’s too heavy. He’ll sink the boat.”“Ha-ha-ha!” laughed the doctor.“It’s all right, auntie, I tell you,” cried Scarlett, making the boat dance up and down as he stepped in, and, stripping off his flannel jacket, rolled up his sleeves over his arms.The doctor stepped in and imitated his friend, both standing up, the muscular specimens of humanity, though wonderfully unlike in aspect.“Now, you told me it was dangerous to stand up in a boat, James,” cried Aunt Sophia. “Pray, pray, take care. And look, look—the boat has broken loose!” For the gardener had dropped the chain into the forepart, and it was drifting slowly with the stream.“All, so she has,” cried Scarlett merrily; “and if we don’t stop her, she’ll take us right to London before we know where we are.”“But do, pray, sit down, my dear.”“All right, auntie,” said Scarlett, dropping into his place, the doctor following suit.“Oh, oh!” cried Aunt Sophia, catching tightly hold of her companions on each side; “the boat’s going over.”“No, no, aunt, dear,” said Lady Scarlett; “it is quite safe.”“But why did it rock?” cried the old lady tremulously. “And look, look; there are only two of them there, and we are four at this end! We shall sink it, I’m sure.”“Now, auntie, it’s too bad of you to set up for a stout old lady, when you are as light as a cork,” cried Scarlett, dropping his oar with a splash.—“Ready, Jack?”“Ready, ay, ready,” said the doctor, following suit; but his oar only swept the sedge.“Gently,” said Scarlett; “don’t break the oar.—That’s better; now you have it,” he said, as the head of the gig turned more and more, the doctor’s oar took a good hold of the water; and in a few moments they were well out from the shore, the steady vigorous strokes sending them past the sloping lawn of the Rosery, which looked its best from the river.“There, aunt, see how steadily and well the boat goes,” said Lady Scarlett.“Yes, my dear, but it doesn’t seem at all safe.”“Place looks pretty from the water, doesn’t it, Arthur?” shouted Scarlett.“Delightful. A most charming home—charming, charming,” said Prayle, lowering his voice with each word, till it was heard as in a whisper by those on the seat in front.“Don’t feel afraid now, do you, auntie?” cried Scarlett to Aunt Sophia.“N-not quite so much, my dear. But won’t you make yourself very hot and tired?”“Do him good, ma’am,” said the doctor; “and me too.—Gently, old fellow, or you’ll pull her head round. I’m not in your trim.”Scarlett laughed, and pulled a little less vigorously, so that they rode on and on between the lovely banks, passing villa after villa, with its boat-house, lawn, and trimly kept garden. Then came a patch of trees laving their drooping branches in the stream; then a sweep of wood, climbing higher and higher into the background on one hand; while on the other the hills receded, leaving a lawn-like stretch of meadow-land, rich in the summer wild-flowers, and whose river-edge was dense with flag and sedge and willow-herb of lilac pink. The marsh-marigold shone golden, and the water-plantains spread their candelabra here and there. Great patches of tansy displayed their beautifully cut foliage; while in sheltered pools, the yellow water-lilies sent up their leaves to float upon the calm surface, with here and there a round green hall in every grade of effort to escape from the tightening scales to form a golden chalice on the silvery stream.By degrees the beauty of the scene lulled Aunt Sophia’s fears to rest, and she found sufficient faith in the safety of the boat to loosen her clutch upon the ladies on either side, to admire some rustic cottage, or the sweep of many-tinted verdure, drooping to the water’s edge; while here and there, at a word from Scarlett, the rowers let the boat go forward by its own impetus, slowly and more slowly, against the stream, so that its occupants could gaze upon some lovely reach. Then as they sat in silence, watching the beauty spread around, the boat grew stationary, hung for a moment on the balance, and began drifting back, gliding with increasing pace, till the oars were clipped again.“The evening is so lovely,” said Scarlett, breaking a long silence, “that I think we might go through the lock.”“Right,” cried the doctor. “I am just warming to my work.”“I think it would be delightful,” said Lady Scarlett.“Oh, yes,” said Naomi. “Those islands are so beautiful.”“I don’t think any part could be more beautiful than where we are,” said Aunt Sophia, rather shortly.“Oh, yes, it is, aunt, dear,” said Scarlett. “There you trust to me.”“Well, it seems I must, for we women are very helpless here.”“Oh, you may trust us, aunt. We won’t take you into any danger.”As they were speaking the boat was rowed round a sharp curve to where the river on each side was embowered in trees, and stretching apparently like a bridge from side to side was one of the many weirs that cross the stream; while from between its piles, in graceful curves a row of little waterfalls flowed down, each arc of water glistening golden and many-tinted in the evening sun.“There!” cried Scarlett.—“Easy, Jack.—What do you think of that, aunt, for a view?”“Yes,” said the old lady thoughtfully; “it is very sweet.”“A very poet’s dream,” said Prayle softly, as he rested his elbow on the gunwale of the boat, his chin upon his hand.“It is one of my husband’s favourite bits,” said Lady Scarlett, smiling in the face of him she named.—“Look, Naomi; that is the fishing-cottage, there on the left.”“I have not seen the weir for years—twenty years,” said Aunt Sophia thoughtfully; “and then it was from the carriage, as we drove along the road.”“Not half so good a view as this,” said Scarlett.—“Now, then, we’ll go through the lock, row up for a mile by the Dell woods, and then back.”“But you will be tired, my dear,” said Aunt Sophia, whom the beauty of the scene seemed to have softened; and her worn sharp face looked wistful and strange.“Tired?” said Lady Scarlett, laughing. “Oh, no, aunt; he’s never tired.”“Well,” said Scarlett, with a bright look at his wife, “I’ll promise one thing—when we’re tired, we’ll turn back.”“Yes, dear; but there’s all the way to return.”“Oh, the river takes us back itself, aunt,” said Lady Scarlett merrily. “Row up; and then float back.”“Ah, well, my dears, I am in your hands,” said Aunt Sophia softly; “but don’t take me into danger, please.”“All right, auntie—There’s one of the prettiest bits,” he added, pointing to where the trees on the right bank opened, showing a view of the hills beyond.—“Now, Jack, pull.”Ten minutes’ sharp rowing brought them up to the stout piles that guarded the entrance to the lock, whose slimy doors were open; and as they approached, they could see the further pair, with the water hissing and spirting through in tiny streams, making a strange echo from the perpendicular stone walls that rose up a dozen feet on either side.“Lock, lock, lock, lock!” shouted Scarlett in his mellow tones, as the boat glided in between the walls, and Aunt Sophia turned pale.“They shut us up here, don’t they, James, and then let the water in?”“Till we are on a level with the river above, and then open the other pair,” said Scarlett quietly. “Don’t be alarmed.”“But I am, my dear,” said the old lady earnestly. “My nerves are not what they were.”“Of course not,” said the doctor kindly.—“I wouldn’t go through, old fellow,” he continued to Scarlett. “Let’s paddle about below the weir.”“To be sure,” said Scarlett, as he saw his aunt’s alarm. “I brought you out to enjoy yourselves.—Here—hi!” he cried, standing up in the boat, and making Aunt Sophia lean forward, as if to catch him and save him from going overboard.—“All right, auntie.—Hi!—catch!” he cried to the lock-keeper, throwing him a shilling. “We won’t go through.”The man did not make an effort to catch the money, but stooped in a heavy dreamy manner to pick it up, staring stolidly at the occupants of the boat.Aunt Sophia uttered a sigh of relief, one that seemed to be echoed from behind her, where Arthur Prayle was seated, looking of a sallow sickly grey, but with his colour rapidly coming back as they reached the open space below the weir, where the water at once seemed to seize the boat and to sweep it downwards, but only to be checked and rowed upwards again towards the weir.“There, auntie, look over the side,” cried Scarlett. “Can you see the stones?”“Yes, my dear,” said Aunt Sophia, who was evidently mastering a good deal of trepidation. “Is it all shallow like this?”“Oh, no. Up yonder, towards the piles, there are plenty of holes fifteen and twenty feet deep, scoured out by the falling water when it comes over in a flood. See how clear and bright it is.”Aunt Sophia sat up rigidly; but her two companions leaned over on each side to look down through the limpid rushing stream at the stones and gravel, over which shot away in fear, shoal after shoal of silvery dace, with here and there some bigger, darker fish that had been lying head to stream, patiently waiting for whatever good might come.“Yes, my dears, it is very beautiful,” said Aunt Sophia. “But you are going very near the falling water, James. It will be tumbling in the boat.”“Oh, we’ll take care of that, auntie,” said Scarlett merrily. “Trust to your boatman, ma’am, and he will take you safe.—What say, Arthur?”“I say, are there any large fish here?”“Large fish, my boy? Wait a moment.—Pull, Jack.” They rowed close up to a clump of piles, driven in to save the bank from the constant washing of the stream.—“Now, look down, old fellow,” continued Scarlett, “close in by the piles. It’s getting too late to see them well. It ought to be when the sun is high.—Well, what can you see?”“A number of dark shadowy forms close to bottom,” said Prayle.“Ay, shoals of them. Big barbel, some as long as your arm, my lad—ten and twelve pounders. Come down some day and we’ll have a good try for them.”“Don’t go too near, dear,” cried Aunt Sophia.“All right, auntie.—Here, Jack, take the boat-hook, and hold on a moment while I get out the cigars and matches.—Ladies, may we smoke? Our work is done.”“A bad habit, James,” said Aunt Sophia, shaking her head at him.“But he has so few bad habits, aunt,” said Lady Scarlett, smiling.“And you encourage him in those, my dear,” said Aunt Sophia.—“There sir, go on.”“Won’t you have a cigar, Arthur?”“Thank you; no,” said Prayle, with a grave smile. “I never smoke.”“Good young man!” said the doctor to himself as he lit up.“Man after your own heart, aunt,” said Scarlett merrily, as he resumed his oar; and for the next half-hour they rowed about over the swiftly running water, now dyed with many a hue, the reflections from the gorgeous clouds that hovered over the ruddy sinking sun. The dancing wavelets flashed and sparkled with orange and gold: the shadows grew more intense, beneath the trees; while in one portion of the weir, where a pile or two had rotted away, the water ran down in one smooth soft curve, like so much molten metal poured from some mighty furnace into the hissing, boiling stream below.“I never saw it so beautiful before,” cried Scarlett excitedly. “It is lovely indeed.—Look, aunt.—Why, Arthur, it was worth a journey to see.”“The place is like one seen in some vision of the night,” said Prayle softly.“Hah! yes,” exclaimed the doctor thoughtfully; “it is enough to tempt a man to give up town.”“Do, old fellow, and you shall have us Impatients,” cried Scarlett, “We never want a doctor, and I hope we never shall.”“Amen to that!” said Scales, in a low, serious tone. “Ah!” he continued, “what a pity it seems that we have so few of these heavenly days.”“Oh, I don’t know,” said Scarlett. “Makes us appreciate them all the more.”“I think these things are best as they are,” said Prayle in his soft dreamy tenor. “Yes; all is for the best.”Lady Scarlett looked at him uneasily, and Aunt Sophia tightened her lips.“I should like to duck that fellow, and fish him out with the boat-hook,” thought the doctor.Then the conversation ceased. Words seemed to be a trouble in the beauty of that evening scene, one so imprinted in the breasts of the spectators that it was never forgotten. The boat was kept from floating down with the quick racing current by a sharp dip of the oars just given now and then, while every touch of the long blue blades seemed to be into liquid gold and silver and ruddy gems. The wind had sunk, and, saving the occasional distance—softened lowing from the meads, no sound came from the shore; but always like distant thunder, heard upon the summer breeze, came the never-ceasing, low-pitched roar of the falling water at the weir.The silence was at last broken by Scarlett, who said suddenly, making his hearers start: “Now then, Jack, one row round by the piles, and then home.”“Right,” said the doctor, throwing the end of his cigar into the water, where it fell with a hiss; and bending to his oar, the light gig was sent up against the racing water nearer and nearer to the weir.The ladies joined hands, as if there was danger, but became reassured as they saw their protectors smile; and soon after, quite near to where the river came thundering down from where it was six feet above their heads, instead of the stream forcing them away, the water seemed comparatively still, the eddy setting slightly towards the weir.“Here’s one of the deep places,” said Scarlett. “I fished here once, and my plummet went down over twenty feet.”“And you didn’t catch a gudgeon?” said the doctor.“Not one,” replied Scarlett.“How deep and black it looks!” said Prayle softly, as he laved one soft white hand in the water.“Enough to make it,” said Scarlett—“deep as that. I say, what a place for a header!”“Ah, splendid!” said the doctor; “only, you mustn’t dive onto pile or stone. I say, hadn’t we better keep off a little more?”“Yes,” said Scarlett, rising, oar in hand. “I never knew the eddy set in so sharply before.—Why, auntie, if we went much nearer, it would carry us right in beneath the falling water, and we should be filled.”“Pray, take care, James.”“To be sure I will, my dear auntie,” he said, as he stood up there in the soft evening light, “I’ll take care of you all, my precious freight;” and wailing his time, he thrust the blade of his oar against a pile, placed one foot upon the gunwale, and pressing heavily, he sent the boat steadily farther and farther away, “Back water, Jack,” he said.—“Now!” As he spoke, he gave one more thrust; but in the act there was a sharp crack as the frail ashen oar snapped in twain, a shriek of horror from Lady Scarlett as she started up, and a dull, heavy plunge, making the water foam up, as Sir James Scarlett went in head foremost and disappeared.
“That’s the style. Hold her tight, Monnick.—Now, auntie, you first. Steady; that’s the way. You won’t swamp her.”
“But it gives way so, James, my dear,” said Aunt Sophia nervously.
“There you are. Sit down at once. Never stand up in a boat.—Is the cushion all right? That’s the way.—Now, Naomi.—Hand her in, Jack.—Come along, Kitty.”
Lady Scarlett gave her hand to her husband as soon as Naomi Raleigh was in, and stepped lightly from the gunwale to one thwart, and then took her place beside Aunt Sophia, Naomi being on the other.
“Arthur, old fellow, you’d better sit behind them and ship the rudder. Shorten the lines, and you can steer.—Ready, Jack?” he said as Prayle stepped into the boat and sat down on a thwart behind the ladies.
“Oh!” cried Aunt Sophia with a little scream; “take him out; he’s too heavy. He’ll sink the boat.”
“Ha-ha-ha!” laughed the doctor.
“It’s all right, auntie, I tell you,” cried Scarlett, making the boat dance up and down as he stepped in, and, stripping off his flannel jacket, rolled up his sleeves over his arms.
The doctor stepped in and imitated his friend, both standing up, the muscular specimens of humanity, though wonderfully unlike in aspect.
“Now, you told me it was dangerous to stand up in a boat, James,” cried Aunt Sophia. “Pray, pray, take care. And look, look—the boat has broken loose!” For the gardener had dropped the chain into the forepart, and it was drifting slowly with the stream.
“All, so she has,” cried Scarlett merrily; “and if we don’t stop her, she’ll take us right to London before we know where we are.”
“But do, pray, sit down, my dear.”
“All right, auntie,” said Scarlett, dropping into his place, the doctor following suit.
“Oh, oh!” cried Aunt Sophia, catching tightly hold of her companions on each side; “the boat’s going over.”
“No, no, aunt, dear,” said Lady Scarlett; “it is quite safe.”
“But why did it rock?” cried the old lady tremulously. “And look, look; there are only two of them there, and we are four at this end! We shall sink it, I’m sure.”
“Now, auntie, it’s too bad of you to set up for a stout old lady, when you are as light as a cork,” cried Scarlett, dropping his oar with a splash.—“Ready, Jack?”
“Ready, ay, ready,” said the doctor, following suit; but his oar only swept the sedge.
“Gently,” said Scarlett; “don’t break the oar.—That’s better; now you have it,” he said, as the head of the gig turned more and more, the doctor’s oar took a good hold of the water; and in a few moments they were well out from the shore, the steady vigorous strokes sending them past the sloping lawn of the Rosery, which looked its best from the river.
“There, aunt, see how steadily and well the boat goes,” said Lady Scarlett.
“Yes, my dear, but it doesn’t seem at all safe.”
“Place looks pretty from the water, doesn’t it, Arthur?” shouted Scarlett.
“Delightful. A most charming home—charming, charming,” said Prayle, lowering his voice with each word, till it was heard as in a whisper by those on the seat in front.
“Don’t feel afraid now, do you, auntie?” cried Scarlett to Aunt Sophia.
“N-not quite so much, my dear. But won’t you make yourself very hot and tired?”
“Do him good, ma’am,” said the doctor; “and me too.—Gently, old fellow, or you’ll pull her head round. I’m not in your trim.”
Scarlett laughed, and pulled a little less vigorously, so that they rode on and on between the lovely banks, passing villa after villa, with its boat-house, lawn, and trimly kept garden. Then came a patch of trees laving their drooping branches in the stream; then a sweep of wood, climbing higher and higher into the background on one hand; while on the other the hills receded, leaving a lawn-like stretch of meadow-land, rich in the summer wild-flowers, and whose river-edge was dense with flag and sedge and willow-herb of lilac pink. The marsh-marigold shone golden, and the water-plantains spread their candelabra here and there. Great patches of tansy displayed their beautifully cut foliage; while in sheltered pools, the yellow water-lilies sent up their leaves to float upon the calm surface, with here and there a round green hall in every grade of effort to escape from the tightening scales to form a golden chalice on the silvery stream.
By degrees the beauty of the scene lulled Aunt Sophia’s fears to rest, and she found sufficient faith in the safety of the boat to loosen her clutch upon the ladies on either side, to admire some rustic cottage, or the sweep of many-tinted verdure, drooping to the water’s edge; while here and there, at a word from Scarlett, the rowers let the boat go forward by its own impetus, slowly and more slowly, against the stream, so that its occupants could gaze upon some lovely reach. Then as they sat in silence, watching the beauty spread around, the boat grew stationary, hung for a moment on the balance, and began drifting back, gliding with increasing pace, till the oars were clipped again.
“The evening is so lovely,” said Scarlett, breaking a long silence, “that I think we might go through the lock.”
“Right,” cried the doctor. “I am just warming to my work.”
“I think it would be delightful,” said Lady Scarlett.
“Oh, yes,” said Naomi. “Those islands are so beautiful.”
“I don’t think any part could be more beautiful than where we are,” said Aunt Sophia, rather shortly.
“Oh, yes, it is, aunt, dear,” said Scarlett. “There you trust to me.”
“Well, it seems I must, for we women are very helpless here.”
“Oh, you may trust us, aunt. We won’t take you into any danger.”
As they were speaking the boat was rowed round a sharp curve to where the river on each side was embowered in trees, and stretching apparently like a bridge from side to side was one of the many weirs that cross the stream; while from between its piles, in graceful curves a row of little waterfalls flowed down, each arc of water glistening golden and many-tinted in the evening sun.
“There!” cried Scarlett.—“Easy, Jack.—What do you think of that, aunt, for a view?”
“Yes,” said the old lady thoughtfully; “it is very sweet.”
“A very poet’s dream,” said Prayle softly, as he rested his elbow on the gunwale of the boat, his chin upon his hand.
“It is one of my husband’s favourite bits,” said Lady Scarlett, smiling in the face of him she named.—“Look, Naomi; that is the fishing-cottage, there on the left.”
“I have not seen the weir for years—twenty years,” said Aunt Sophia thoughtfully; “and then it was from the carriage, as we drove along the road.”
“Not half so good a view as this,” said Scarlett.—“Now, then, we’ll go through the lock, row up for a mile by the Dell woods, and then back.”
“But you will be tired, my dear,” said Aunt Sophia, whom the beauty of the scene seemed to have softened; and her worn sharp face looked wistful and strange.
“Tired?” said Lady Scarlett, laughing. “Oh, no, aunt; he’s never tired.”
“Well,” said Scarlett, with a bright look at his wife, “I’ll promise one thing—when we’re tired, we’ll turn back.”
“Yes, dear; but there’s all the way to return.”
“Oh, the river takes us back itself, aunt,” said Lady Scarlett merrily. “Row up; and then float back.”
“Ah, well, my dears, I am in your hands,” said Aunt Sophia softly; “but don’t take me into danger, please.”
“All right, auntie—There’s one of the prettiest bits,” he added, pointing to where the trees on the right bank opened, showing a view of the hills beyond.—“Now, Jack, pull.”
Ten minutes’ sharp rowing brought them up to the stout piles that guarded the entrance to the lock, whose slimy doors were open; and as they approached, they could see the further pair, with the water hissing and spirting through in tiny streams, making a strange echo from the perpendicular stone walls that rose up a dozen feet on either side.
“Lock, lock, lock, lock!” shouted Scarlett in his mellow tones, as the boat glided in between the walls, and Aunt Sophia turned pale.
“They shut us up here, don’t they, James, and then let the water in?”
“Till we are on a level with the river above, and then open the other pair,” said Scarlett quietly. “Don’t be alarmed.”
“But I am, my dear,” said the old lady earnestly. “My nerves are not what they were.”
“Of course not,” said the doctor kindly.—“I wouldn’t go through, old fellow,” he continued to Scarlett. “Let’s paddle about below the weir.”
“To be sure,” said Scarlett, as he saw his aunt’s alarm. “I brought you out to enjoy yourselves.—Here—hi!” he cried, standing up in the boat, and making Aunt Sophia lean forward, as if to catch him and save him from going overboard.—“All right, auntie.—Hi!—catch!” he cried to the lock-keeper, throwing him a shilling. “We won’t go through.”
The man did not make an effort to catch the money, but stooped in a heavy dreamy manner to pick it up, staring stolidly at the occupants of the boat.
Aunt Sophia uttered a sigh of relief, one that seemed to be echoed from behind her, where Arthur Prayle was seated, looking of a sallow sickly grey, but with his colour rapidly coming back as they reached the open space below the weir, where the water at once seemed to seize the boat and to sweep it downwards, but only to be checked and rowed upwards again towards the weir.
“There, auntie, look over the side,” cried Scarlett. “Can you see the stones?”
“Yes, my dear,” said Aunt Sophia, who was evidently mastering a good deal of trepidation. “Is it all shallow like this?”
“Oh, no. Up yonder, towards the piles, there are plenty of holes fifteen and twenty feet deep, scoured out by the falling water when it comes over in a flood. See how clear and bright it is.”
Aunt Sophia sat up rigidly; but her two companions leaned over on each side to look down through the limpid rushing stream at the stones and gravel, over which shot away in fear, shoal after shoal of silvery dace, with here and there some bigger, darker fish that had been lying head to stream, patiently waiting for whatever good might come.
“Yes, my dears, it is very beautiful,” said Aunt Sophia. “But you are going very near the falling water, James. It will be tumbling in the boat.”
“Oh, we’ll take care of that, auntie,” said Scarlett merrily. “Trust to your boatman, ma’am, and he will take you safe.—What say, Arthur?”
“I say, are there any large fish here?”
“Large fish, my boy? Wait a moment.—Pull, Jack.” They rowed close up to a clump of piles, driven in to save the bank from the constant washing of the stream.—“Now, look down, old fellow,” continued Scarlett, “close in by the piles. It’s getting too late to see them well. It ought to be when the sun is high.—Well, what can you see?”
“A number of dark shadowy forms close to bottom,” said Prayle.
“Ay, shoals of them. Big barbel, some as long as your arm, my lad—ten and twelve pounders. Come down some day and we’ll have a good try for them.”
“Don’t go too near, dear,” cried Aunt Sophia.
“All right, auntie.—Here, Jack, take the boat-hook, and hold on a moment while I get out the cigars and matches.—Ladies, may we smoke? Our work is done.”
“A bad habit, James,” said Aunt Sophia, shaking her head at him.
“But he has so few bad habits, aunt,” said Lady Scarlett, smiling.
“And you encourage him in those, my dear,” said Aunt Sophia.—“There sir, go on.”
“Won’t you have a cigar, Arthur?”
“Thank you; no,” said Prayle, with a grave smile. “I never smoke.”
“Good young man!” said the doctor to himself as he lit up.
“Man after your own heart, aunt,” said Scarlett merrily, as he resumed his oar; and for the next half-hour they rowed about over the swiftly running water, now dyed with many a hue, the reflections from the gorgeous clouds that hovered over the ruddy sinking sun. The dancing wavelets flashed and sparkled with orange and gold: the shadows grew more intense, beneath the trees; while in one portion of the weir, where a pile or two had rotted away, the water ran down in one smooth soft curve, like so much molten metal poured from some mighty furnace into the hissing, boiling stream below.
“I never saw it so beautiful before,” cried Scarlett excitedly. “It is lovely indeed.—Look, aunt.—Why, Arthur, it was worth a journey to see.”
“The place is like one seen in some vision of the night,” said Prayle softly.
“Hah! yes,” exclaimed the doctor thoughtfully; “it is enough to tempt a man to give up town.”
“Do, old fellow, and you shall have us Impatients,” cried Scarlett, “We never want a doctor, and I hope we never shall.”
“Amen to that!” said Scales, in a low, serious tone. “Ah!” he continued, “what a pity it seems that we have so few of these heavenly days.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Scarlett. “Makes us appreciate them all the more.”
“I think these things are best as they are,” said Prayle in his soft dreamy tenor. “Yes; all is for the best.”
Lady Scarlett looked at him uneasily, and Aunt Sophia tightened her lips.
“I should like to duck that fellow, and fish him out with the boat-hook,” thought the doctor.
Then the conversation ceased. Words seemed to be a trouble in the beauty of that evening scene, one so imprinted in the breasts of the spectators that it was never forgotten. The boat was kept from floating down with the quick racing current by a sharp dip of the oars just given now and then, while every touch of the long blue blades seemed to be into liquid gold and silver and ruddy gems. The wind had sunk, and, saving the occasional distance—softened lowing from the meads, no sound came from the shore; but always like distant thunder, heard upon the summer breeze, came the never-ceasing, low-pitched roar of the falling water at the weir.
The silence was at last broken by Scarlett, who said suddenly, making his hearers start: “Now then, Jack, one row round by the piles, and then home.”
“Right,” said the doctor, throwing the end of his cigar into the water, where it fell with a hiss; and bending to his oar, the light gig was sent up against the racing water nearer and nearer to the weir.
The ladies joined hands, as if there was danger, but became reassured as they saw their protectors smile; and soon after, quite near to where the river came thundering down from where it was six feet above their heads, instead of the stream forcing them away, the water seemed comparatively still, the eddy setting slightly towards the weir.
“Here’s one of the deep places,” said Scarlett. “I fished here once, and my plummet went down over twenty feet.”
“And you didn’t catch a gudgeon?” said the doctor.
“Not one,” replied Scarlett.
“How deep and black it looks!” said Prayle softly, as he laved one soft white hand in the water.
“Enough to make it,” said Scarlett—“deep as that. I say, what a place for a header!”
“Ah, splendid!” said the doctor; “only, you mustn’t dive onto pile or stone. I say, hadn’t we better keep off a little more?”
“Yes,” said Scarlett, rising, oar in hand. “I never knew the eddy set in so sharply before.—Why, auntie, if we went much nearer, it would carry us right in beneath the falling water, and we should be filled.”
“Pray, take care, James.”
“To be sure I will, my dear auntie,” he said, as he stood up there in the soft evening light, “I’ll take care of you all, my precious freight;” and wailing his time, he thrust the blade of his oar against a pile, placed one foot upon the gunwale, and pressing heavily, he sent the boat steadily farther and farther away, “Back water, Jack,” he said.—“Now!” As he spoke, he gave one more thrust; but in the act there was a sharp crack as the frail ashen oar snapped in twain, a shriek of horror from Lady Scarlett as she started up, and a dull, heavy plunge, making the water foam up, as Sir James Scarlett went in head foremost and disappeared.
Volume One—Chapter Eleven.The Doctor Abroad.The thrust delivered by Scarlett before the breaking of the oar, aided by the impetus given by his feet as he fell, sent the boat back into the rapid stream beyond the eddy; and in spite of the doctor’s efforts, he could not check its course, till, suddenly starting up, he used his oar as a pole, arresting their downward course as he scanned the surface towards the piles.“Sit down, Lady Scarlett!” he cried in a fierce, hoarse voice.—“Hold her, or she will be over.”Aunt Sophia had already seized her niece’s dress, and was dragging her back, the three women sitting with blanched faces and parted ashy lips, gazing at the place where Scarlett had gone down.“Don’t be alarmed; he swims like a fish,” said the doctor, though grave apprehension was changing the hue of his own countenance, as he stood watching for the reappearance of his friend.“Help! help!” cried Lady Scarlett suddenly; and her voice went echoing over the water.“Hush! be calm,” cried the doctor.—“Here, quick—you—Mr Prayle! Come and shove down the boat-hook here. She’s drifting. Mind, man, mind!” he cried, as Prayle, trembling visibly, nearly fell over as he stooped to get out the boat-hook.He thrust it down into the water, but in a timid, helpless way.“Put it down!” cried the doctor; and then, seizing an oar by the middle, he used it as a paddle, just managing to keep the boat from being swept away.They were twenty yards at least from where Scarlett went down: but had he possessed the power to urge the boat forward, Scales dared not have sent it nearer to the piles with that freight on board. And still those terrible moments went on, lengthening first into one and then into a second minute, and Scarlett did not reappear.“Why does he not come up?” said Prayle, in a harsh whisper.“Silence, man! Wait!” cried the doctor hoarsely, as he saw Lady Scarlett’s wild imploring eyes.“He must have struck his head against a stone or pile,” thought the doctor, “and is stunned.” And then the horrible idea came upon him, that his poor friend was being kept down by the tons and tons of falling water, every time he would have risen to the top. Two minutes—three minutes had passed, and, as if in sympathy with the horror that had fallen upon the group, the noise of the tumbling waters seemed to grow more loud, and the orange glow of sunset was giving place to a cold grey light.Aunt Sophia was the next to speak. “Do something, man!” she cried, in a passionate imploring voice. But the doctor did not heed; he only scanned the surface of the foamy pool.“There, there, there!” shrieked Lady Scarlett. “There, help!—James! Husband! Help!”She would have flung herself from the boat, as she gazed wildly in quite a different direction; and the doctor, dropping the oar across the sides, sent the frail vessel back from him, rocking heavily; for he had plunged from it headlong into the rushing water, but only to rise directly; and they saw him swimming rapidly towards where something creamy-looking was being slowly carried by the current back towards the piles. The doctor was a powerful swimmer, but he was weary from his exertions. He swam on, though, rapidly nearing the object of his search, caught it by the flannel shirt, made a tremendous effort to get beyond the back-set of the current, and then turned a ghastly face upward to the air.The gig was fifty yards away now, Prayle being helpless to stay its course; and though the doctor looked round, there was neither soul nor boat in sight to give them help.It was a hard fight; but the swimmer won; for some thirty or forty strokes, given with all his might, brought him into the shallow stream, and then the rest was easy; he had but to keep his friend’s face above the water while he tried to overtake the boat. For a moment he thought of landing; but no help was near without carrying his inanimate burden perhaps a mile, the lock being on the other side, its keeper probably asleep, for he made no sign.“Cannot that idiot stop the boat?” groaned Scales. “At last—at last!” He uttered these words with a cry of satisfaction, for Prayle was making some pretence of forcing the boat up-stream once more.The doctor was skilful enough to direct his course so that they were swept down to the bows; and grasping the gunwale with one hand, he panted forth: “Down with that boat-hook! Now, take him by the shoulders. Lean back to the other side and draw him in.”The swimmer could lend but little help; and Prayle would have failed in his effort, and probably overturned the boat, but for Aunt Sophia, whose dread of the water seemed to have passed away as she came forward, and between them they dragged Scarlett over the side.The doctor followed, with the water streaming from him, and gave a glance to right and left in search of a place to land.“It would be no use,” he said quickly. “While we were getting him to some house, valuable minutes would be gone.—Now, Lady Scarlett, for heaven’s sake, be calm!”“Oh, he is dead—he is dead!” moaned the wretched woman, on her knees.“That’s more than you know, or I know,” cried the doctor, who was working busily all the time. “Be calm, and help me.—You too, Miss Raleigh.—Prayle, get out of the way!”Arthur Prayle frowned and went aft. Lady Scarlett made a supreme effort to be calm; while Aunt Sophia, with her lips pressed lightly together, knelt there, watchful and ready, as the doctor toiled on. She it was who, unasked, passed him the cushions which he laid beneath the apparently drowned man, and, at a word, was the first to strip away the coverings from his feet and apply friction, while Scales was hard at work trying to produce artificial respiration by movements of his patient’s arms.“Don’t be down-hearted,” he said; “only work. We want warmth and friction to induce the circulation to return. Throw plenty of hope into your efforts, and, with God’s help, we’ll have him back to life.”Naomi Raleigh would have helped had there been room, but there was none, and she could only sit with starting eyes watching the efforts that were made, while Prayle tried hard with the oar to hasten the progress of the boat.There was no sign of life in the figure that lay there inert and motionless; but no heed was paid to that. Animated by the doctor’s example, aunt and niece laboured on in silence, while the boat rocked from their efforts, and the water that had streamed from the garments of the doctor and his patient washed to and fro.It was a strange freight for a pleasure-boat as it floated swiftly down with the stream, passing no one on that solitary portion of the river; though had they encountered scores no further help could have been rendered than that which friend was giving to friend.For the doctor’s face was purple with his exertions, and the great drops of perspiration stood now side by side with the water that still trickled from his crisp hair.“Don’t slacken,” he cried cheerily. “I’ve brought fellows to, after being four or five times as long under water, in the depth of winter too. We shall have a flicker of life before long, I’ll be sworn. Is he still as cold? I can’t stop to feel.”Aunt Sophia laid her hand upon the bare white chest of her nephew in the region of his heart; and then, as her eyes met the doctor’s her lips tightened just a little—that was all.“Too soon to expect it yet.—Don’t be despondent, Lady Scarlett. Be a brave, true little wife. That’s right.” He nodded at her so encouragingly, that, in the face of what he was doing, Lady Scarlett felt that all little distance between them was for ever at an end, and that she had a sister’s love for this gallant, earnest man.“Where are we?” he said at last, toiling more slowly now, from sheer exhaustion.“Very nearly down to the cottage,” replied Prayle; and the doctor muttered an inaudible “Thank God!” It was not loud enough for wife or aunt to hear, or it would have carried with it a despair far greater than that they felt.“Can you run her into the landing-place?”“I’ll try,” said Prayle, but in so doubting a tone, that the doctor uttered a low ejaculation, full of impatient anger, and Kate Scarlett looked up.“Naomi! Quick! Here!” she cried. “Kneel down, and take my place.”“Yes; warmth is life,” panted the doctor, who was hoarse now and faint. “Poor woman! she’s fagged,” he thought; “but still she is his wife.” There was a feeling of annoyance in his breast as he thought this—a sensation of anger against Kate Scarlett, who ought to have died at her post, he felt, sooner than give it up to another. Put the next moment he gave a sigh of satisfaction and relief, as he saw her rise and stop lightly to where Prayle was fumbling with the oar.“Sit down!” she said in a quick, imperious manner; and, slipping the oar over the stern, she cleverly sculled with it, as her husband had taught her in happier times, so that she sent the gig nearer and nearer to the shore. But in spite of her efforts, they would have been swept beyond, had not the old gardener, waiting their return, waded in to get hold of the bows of the gig and haul it to the side. As it grated against the landing-stage, the doctor summoned all the strength that he had left, to bend down, lift his friend over his shoulder, and then stagger to the house.
The thrust delivered by Scarlett before the breaking of the oar, aided by the impetus given by his feet as he fell, sent the boat back into the rapid stream beyond the eddy; and in spite of the doctor’s efforts, he could not check its course, till, suddenly starting up, he used his oar as a pole, arresting their downward course as he scanned the surface towards the piles.
“Sit down, Lady Scarlett!” he cried in a fierce, hoarse voice.—“Hold her, or she will be over.”
Aunt Sophia had already seized her niece’s dress, and was dragging her back, the three women sitting with blanched faces and parted ashy lips, gazing at the place where Scarlett had gone down.
“Don’t be alarmed; he swims like a fish,” said the doctor, though grave apprehension was changing the hue of his own countenance, as he stood watching for the reappearance of his friend.
“Help! help!” cried Lady Scarlett suddenly; and her voice went echoing over the water.
“Hush! be calm,” cried the doctor.—“Here, quick—you—Mr Prayle! Come and shove down the boat-hook here. She’s drifting. Mind, man, mind!” he cried, as Prayle, trembling visibly, nearly fell over as he stooped to get out the boat-hook.
He thrust it down into the water, but in a timid, helpless way.
“Put it down!” cried the doctor; and then, seizing an oar by the middle, he used it as a paddle, just managing to keep the boat from being swept away.
They were twenty yards at least from where Scarlett went down: but had he possessed the power to urge the boat forward, Scales dared not have sent it nearer to the piles with that freight on board. And still those terrible moments went on, lengthening first into one and then into a second minute, and Scarlett did not reappear.
“Why does he not come up?” said Prayle, in a harsh whisper.
“Silence, man! Wait!” cried the doctor hoarsely, as he saw Lady Scarlett’s wild imploring eyes.
“He must have struck his head against a stone or pile,” thought the doctor, “and is stunned.” And then the horrible idea came upon him, that his poor friend was being kept down by the tons and tons of falling water, every time he would have risen to the top. Two minutes—three minutes had passed, and, as if in sympathy with the horror that had fallen upon the group, the noise of the tumbling waters seemed to grow more loud, and the orange glow of sunset was giving place to a cold grey light.
Aunt Sophia was the next to speak. “Do something, man!” she cried, in a passionate imploring voice. But the doctor did not heed; he only scanned the surface of the foamy pool.
“There, there, there!” shrieked Lady Scarlett. “There, help!—James! Husband! Help!”
She would have flung herself from the boat, as she gazed wildly in quite a different direction; and the doctor, dropping the oar across the sides, sent the frail vessel back from him, rocking heavily; for he had plunged from it headlong into the rushing water, but only to rise directly; and they saw him swimming rapidly towards where something creamy-looking was being slowly carried by the current back towards the piles. The doctor was a powerful swimmer, but he was weary from his exertions. He swam on, though, rapidly nearing the object of his search, caught it by the flannel shirt, made a tremendous effort to get beyond the back-set of the current, and then turned a ghastly face upward to the air.
The gig was fifty yards away now, Prayle being helpless to stay its course; and though the doctor looked round, there was neither soul nor boat in sight to give them help.
It was a hard fight; but the swimmer won; for some thirty or forty strokes, given with all his might, brought him into the shallow stream, and then the rest was easy; he had but to keep his friend’s face above the water while he tried to overtake the boat. For a moment he thought of landing; but no help was near without carrying his inanimate burden perhaps a mile, the lock being on the other side, its keeper probably asleep, for he made no sign.
“Cannot that idiot stop the boat?” groaned Scales. “At last—at last!” He uttered these words with a cry of satisfaction, for Prayle was making some pretence of forcing the boat up-stream once more.
The doctor was skilful enough to direct his course so that they were swept down to the bows; and grasping the gunwale with one hand, he panted forth: “Down with that boat-hook! Now, take him by the shoulders. Lean back to the other side and draw him in.”
The swimmer could lend but little help; and Prayle would have failed in his effort, and probably overturned the boat, but for Aunt Sophia, whose dread of the water seemed to have passed away as she came forward, and between them they dragged Scarlett over the side.
The doctor followed, with the water streaming from him, and gave a glance to right and left in search of a place to land.
“It would be no use,” he said quickly. “While we were getting him to some house, valuable minutes would be gone.—Now, Lady Scarlett, for heaven’s sake, be calm!”
“Oh, he is dead—he is dead!” moaned the wretched woman, on her knees.
“That’s more than you know, or I know,” cried the doctor, who was working busily all the time. “Be calm, and help me.—You too, Miss Raleigh.—Prayle, get out of the way!”
Arthur Prayle frowned and went aft. Lady Scarlett made a supreme effort to be calm; while Aunt Sophia, with her lips pressed lightly together, knelt there, watchful and ready, as the doctor toiled on. She it was who, unasked, passed him the cushions which he laid beneath the apparently drowned man, and, at a word, was the first to strip away the coverings from his feet and apply friction, while Scales was hard at work trying to produce artificial respiration by movements of his patient’s arms.
“Don’t be down-hearted,” he said; “only work. We want warmth and friction to induce the circulation to return. Throw plenty of hope into your efforts, and, with God’s help, we’ll have him back to life.”
Naomi Raleigh would have helped had there been room, but there was none, and she could only sit with starting eyes watching the efforts that were made, while Prayle tried hard with the oar to hasten the progress of the boat.
There was no sign of life in the figure that lay there inert and motionless; but no heed was paid to that. Animated by the doctor’s example, aunt and niece laboured on in silence, while the boat rocked from their efforts, and the water that had streamed from the garments of the doctor and his patient washed to and fro.
It was a strange freight for a pleasure-boat as it floated swiftly down with the stream, passing no one on that solitary portion of the river; though had they encountered scores no further help could have been rendered than that which friend was giving to friend.
For the doctor’s face was purple with his exertions, and the great drops of perspiration stood now side by side with the water that still trickled from his crisp hair.
“Don’t slacken,” he cried cheerily. “I’ve brought fellows to, after being four or five times as long under water, in the depth of winter too. We shall have a flicker of life before long, I’ll be sworn. Is he still as cold? I can’t stop to feel.”
Aunt Sophia laid her hand upon the bare white chest of her nephew in the region of his heart; and then, as her eyes met the doctor’s her lips tightened just a little—that was all.
“Too soon to expect it yet.—Don’t be despondent, Lady Scarlett. Be a brave, true little wife. That’s right.” He nodded at her so encouragingly, that, in the face of what he was doing, Lady Scarlett felt that all little distance between them was for ever at an end, and that she had a sister’s love for this gallant, earnest man.
“Where are we?” he said at last, toiling more slowly now, from sheer exhaustion.
“Very nearly down to the cottage,” replied Prayle; and the doctor muttered an inaudible “Thank God!” It was not loud enough for wife or aunt to hear, or it would have carried with it a despair far greater than that they felt.
“Can you run her into the landing-place?”
“I’ll try,” said Prayle, but in so doubting a tone, that the doctor uttered a low ejaculation, full of impatient anger, and Kate Scarlett looked up.
“Naomi! Quick! Here!” she cried. “Kneel down, and take my place.”
“Yes; warmth is life,” panted the doctor, who was hoarse now and faint. “Poor woman! she’s fagged,” he thought; “but still she is his wife.” There was a feeling of annoyance in his breast as he thought this—a sensation of anger against Kate Scarlett, who ought to have died at her post, he felt, sooner than give it up to another. Put the next moment he gave a sigh of satisfaction and relief, as he saw her rise and stop lightly to where Prayle was fumbling with the oar.
“Sit down!” she said in a quick, imperious manner; and, slipping the oar over the stern, she cleverly sculled with it, as her husband had taught her in happier times, so that she sent the gig nearer and nearer to the shore. But in spite of her efforts, they would have been swept beyond, had not the old gardener, waiting their return, waded in to get hold of the bows of the gig and haul it to the side. As it grated against the landing-stage, the doctor summoned all the strength that he had left, to bend down, lift his friend over his shoulder, and then stagger to the house.
Volume One—Chapter Twelve.A Hard Night’s Work.“Yes,” said Scales excitedly, as he bent over his patient, whom he had placed upon the floor of the study, after ordering fresh medical help to be fetched at once—“yes—there is hope.”As he spoke, Kate Scarlett uttered a low wail, and Aunt Sophia caught her in her arms; but the stricken wife struggled to get free. “No, no; I shall not give way,” she panted; “I will be brave, and help.” For, as the doctor slowly continued his efforts to restore the circulation, there came at last a faint gasp; and soon after, the medical man from the village came in, cool and calm, to take in the situation at a glance.By this time, Scarlett was breathing with some approach to the normal strength, and Scales turned to the new-comer. “Will you”—he began. He could say no more, from utter exhaustion and excitement, but sank over sidewise, fainting dead away, leaving the new-comer to complete his task.It was not a long one now, for almost together James Scarlett and his friend opened their eyes and gazed about wildly.The doctor was the first to recover himself, and he drank eagerly of the spirit and water held to his lips, and then rose and walked to the open window.“I’m better now,” he said, returning to where his fellow professional was leaning over Scarlett, to whose wandering eyes the light of reason had not yet returned. “How is he now?”“Coming round fast,” said the other.“He’s dying?” moaned Lady Scarlett, as she saw her husband’s eyes slowly close once more.“No, no,” said Scales quietly. “It is exhaustion and sleep. He’ll go off soundly now for many hours, and wake up nearly well.”“Are you saying this to deceive me?” cried Lady Scarlett.“Indeed, no; ask our friend here.”Lady Scarlett looked at the other appealingly, and he confirmed his confrère’s words. But still she was not convinced, so pale and motionless Sir James lay, till the doctor signed to her to bend over and place her ear against her husband’s breast.Then, as she heard the regular heavy pulsation of his heart, she uttered a low, sobbing, hysterical cry, turned to Scales, caught his hand in hers, kissed it again and again, and then crouched lower upon her knees at her husband’s side, weeping and praying during his heavy sleep.The local doctor stayed for a couple of hours, and then, after a short consultation with Scales, shook hands. “You have done wonders,” he said on leaving.“No,” said Scales quietly; “I only persevered.”He found Aunt Sophia kneeling by Lady Scarlett’s side, pressing her to rise and partake of some tea which the old lady had ready for her, but only to obtain negative motions of the suffering little woman’s head, till Scales bent down and whispered—“Yes, you must take it, Lady Scarlett; you will want all your strength perhaps when your husband wakes.”His voice roused her and she rose at once, caught his hand in hers and kissed it again before going to a side-table and eating and drinking whatever Aunt Sophia placed in her hands.“She’d make a splendid nurse,” said the doctor to himself, “so obedient and patient. I didn’t think she had it in her, but somehow I don’t quite like her and her ways.”Just then he turned and met Prayle’s eyes fixed upon him rather curiously, and it seemed to him, in his own rather excited state, that his friend’s cousin was watching him in no very amiable way.The thought passed off on the moment and he went down on one knee by Scarlett’s extemporised couch. For by this time the patient had been made comfortable where he lay with blankets and cushions. The doctor too had found time to change, and had prescribed for himself what he told Aunt Sophia was the tip-top of recuperators in such a case, a strong cup of tea with a tablespoonful of brandy.“Poor old boy!” he said tenderly, as he laid his hand upon Scarlett’s breast. “Yes, your old heart’s doing its duty once again, and, and—confound it! what a weak fool I am.”He remained very still for some minutes, so that no one should see the big hot tears that dropped in a most unprofessional fashion upon the blankets and glistened there. But it was a failure as far as one person was concerned, and he might just as well have taken out his handkerchief, wiped his eyes, and had one of those good sonorous blows of the nose indulged in by Englishmen when they feel affected; for under the most painful circumstances, however natural, it is of course exceedingly unmanly of the first made human being to cry. That luxury and relief of an overladen spirit is reserved for the Eves of creation. All the same though, there are few men who do not weep in times of intense mental agony. They almost invariably, however, and by long practice and custom, the result probably of assistance in accordance with Darwinian laws, contrive to switch the lines or rather ducts of their tears, shunt these saline globules of bitterness, and cry through the nose.“There! he’s going on capitally now,” he said, after a time.—“Mr Prayle, you need not, stay.”“Oh, I would rather wait,” said Prayle. “He may have a relapse.”“Oh, I shall be with him,” said the doctor confidently. “I will ask you to leave us now, Mr Prayle. I want to keep the room quiet and cool.”Arthur Prayle was disposed to resist; but a doctor is an autocrat in a sick-chamber, whom no one but a patient dare disobey; and the result was that Prayle unwillingly left the room.“Got rid of him,” muttered the doctor.—“Now for the old maid,” who, by the way, has behaved like a trump.“I don’t think you need stay, Miss Raleigh,” he whispered. “You must be very tired now.”“Yes, Doctor Scales,” she said quietly; “but I will not go to bed. You may want a little help in the night.”“I shall not leave my husband’s side,” said Lady Scarlett firmly.—“Oh, Doctor Scales, pray, pray, tell me the truth; keep nothing back. Is there any danger?”“Upon my word, as a man, Lady Scarlett, there is none.”“You are not deceiving me?”“Indeed, no. Here is the case for yourself: he has been nearly drowned.”“Yes, yes,” sobbed Lady Scarlett.“Well, he has his breathing apparatus in order again, and is fast asleep. There is no disease.”“No; I understand that,” said Lady Scarlett excitedly; “but—a relapse?”“Relapse?” said the doctor in a low voice and laughing quietly. “Well, the only form of relapse he could have would be to tumble in again.”“Don’t; pray, don’t laugh at me, doctor,” said Lady Scarlett piteously. “You cannot tell what I suffer.”“O yes, I can,” he said kindly. “If I laughed then, it was only to give you confidence. He will wake up with a bad nervous headache, and that’s all.—Now, suppose you go and lie down.”“No; I shall stay with my husband,” she said firmly. “I cannot go.”“Well,” he said, “you shall stay.—Perhaps you will stay with us as well, Miss Raleigh,” he added. “We can shade the light; and he is so utterly exhausted, that even if we talk, I don’t think he will wake.”“And he will not be worse?” whispered Lady Scarlett.“Peoplewillnot have any confidence in their medical man. Come, now, I think you might trust me, after what I have done.”“I do trust you, Doctor Scales, and believe in you as my husband’s best and dearest friend,” cried Lady Scarlett. “Heaven bless you for what you have done!” She hurriedly kissed his hand; and then, after a glance at her husband’s pale face, she went and sat upon the floor beside Aunt Sophia’s chair, laid her hands upon the elder lady’s knees, and hid her face, sitting there so motionless that she seemed to be asleep.“I wish she would not do that,” muttered the doctor; and then: “I hate a woman who behaves in that lapdog way. I never liked her, and I don’t think I ever shall.”It was a change indeed, the long watch through that night, and it was with a sigh of relief that the doctor saw the first grey light of morning stealing through the window. Only a few hours before and all had been so bright and sunny, now all was depression and gloom. When they started for their water trip trouble seemed a something that could not fall upon so happy a home. Aunt Sophia’s fears had only been a motive for mirth, and since then, with a rapidity that was like the lightning’s flash, this terrible shock had come upon them.“Ah, well!” mused the doctor, as he stood at the window holding the blind a little on one side so as to gaze out at the grey sky, “it might have been worse, and it will make him more careful for the future. My word though, it was precious lucky that I was in the boat.”He yawned slightly now, for there was no denying that the doctor was terribly sleepy. It was bad enough to lose a night’s rest, but the exhaustion he had suffered from his efforts made it worse, and in spite of his anxiety and eagerness to save his friend, there was no concealing the fact that unless he had risen and walked about now and then he would have fallen asleep.Just as the sky was becoming flecked with tiny clouds of gold and orange, the first brightness that had been seen since the evening before, a few muttered words and a restless movement made doctor and wife hurry to the extempore couch.“Kate! Where’s Kate?” exclaimed Scarlett in a hoarse cracked voice.“I am here, dear—here at your side,” she whispered, laying her cheek to his.“Has the boat gone over? Save Kate!”“We are all safe, dear husband.”“Fool!—idiot!—to go so near. So dangerous!” he cried excitedly. “Jack—Jack, old man—my wife—my wife!”“It’s all right, old fellow,” said the doctor cheerily. “There, there; you only had a bit of a ducking—that’s all.”“Scales—Jack!—Where am I? Where’s Kate?”“Here, dear love, by your side.”“My head!” panted the poor fellow. “I’m frightened. What does it mean? Why do you all stare at me like that? Here! what’s the matter? Have I had a dream?”“He calm, old fellow,” said the doctor. “You’re all right now.”“Catch hold of my hand, Kate,” he cried, drawing in his breath with a hiss. “There’s something wrong with—here—the back of my neck, and my head throbs terribly. Here! Have I been overboard? Why don’t you speak?”“Scarlett, old fellow, be calm,” said the doctor firmly. “There; that’s better.”“Yes; I’ll lie still. What a frightful headache! But tell me what it all means.—Ah! I remember now. The oar broke, and I went under. I was beaten down.—Jack—Kate, dear—do you hear me?”“Yes, yes, dear love; yes, yes,” whispered Lady Scarlett, placing her arm round his neck and drawing his head upon her breast. “It was a nasty accident; but you are quite safe now.”“Safe? Am I safe?” he whispered hoarsely. “That’s right, dear; hold me—tightly now.” He closed his eyes and shuddered, while Lady Scarlett gazed imploringly in the doctor’s face.“The shock to his nerves,” he said quietly. “A bit upset; but he’ll be all right soon;” and as he spoke, the doctor laid his hand upon his friend’s pulse.Scarlett uttered a piercing cry, starting and gazing wildly at his old companion. “Oh! It was you,” he panted, and he closed his eyes again, clinging tightly to his wife, as he whispered softly, “Don’t leave me, dear—don’t leave me.”He seemed to calm down then and lay quite still muttering about the boat—the oar breaking—and the black water.“It kept me down,” he said with another shudder, and speaking as if to himself. “It kept me down till I felt that I was drowning. Jack Scales,” he said aloud, “how does a man feel when he is drowned?”“Don’t know, old fellow. Never was drowned,” said the doctor cheerily.—“Now, look here; it’s only just sunrise, so you’d better go to sleep again, and then you’ll wake up as lively as a cricket.”“Sunrise?—sunrise?” said Scarlett excitedly—“sunrise?” And as he spoke he looked round from one to the other. “Why, you’ve been sitting up all night! Of course, I’m down here. Have I been very bad?”The doctor hesitated for a few moments, and then, deeming it best to tell him all, he said quietly:“Well, pretty bad, old fellow, but we brought you to again, and it’s all right now.”“Yes, it’s all right now. It’s all right now,” muttered Scarlett, looking from one to the other, and then clinging tightly to his wife’s hand he closed his eyes once more, lay muttering for a time, and then seemed to be fast asleep.Lady Scarlett kept following the doctor’s every movement with her wistful eyes till he said in a whisper: “Let him sleep, and I’ll come back presently.”“Don’t you leave me, Kate,” cried Scarlett, shuddering.“No, no, dear,” she said tenderly; and the poor fellow uttered a low sigh, and remained with his eyes closed, as the doctor softly left the room, beckoning to Aunt Sophia to follow him.“I’m going to get a prescription made up,” he said. “I’ll send off the groom on one of the horses; there will be a place open in the town by the time he gets there.”“Stop a moment,” said Aunt Sophia, clutching at his arm. “Tell me what, this means. Why is he like this?”“Oh, it is only the reaction—the shock to his nerves. Poor fellow!” he muttered to himself, “he has been face to face with death.”“Doctor Scales,” said Aunt Sophia, with her hand tightening upon his arm—“shock to his nerves! He is not going to be like that patient of yours you spoke of the other day?”The sun was up, and streaming in upon them where they stood in the plant-bedecked hall, and it seemed as if its light had sent a flash into the soul of John Scales, M.D., as he gazed sharply into his querist’s eyes and then shuddered. For in these moments he seemed to see the owner of that delightful English home, him who, but a few hours before, had been all that was perfect in manly vigour and mental strength, changed into a stricken, nerveless, helpless man, clinging to his wife in the extremity of his child-like dread.For the time being he could not speak, then struggling against the spell that seemed to hold him fast, he cried angrily—“No, no! Absurd, absurd! Only a few hours’ rest, and he’ll be himself.”He hurried into the study, and hastily wrote his prescription, taking it out directly to where the groom was just unfastening the stable-doors.“Ride over to the town, sir? Yes, sir.—But, beg pardon, sir—Sir James, sir? Is he all right?”“Oh, getting over it nicely, my man. Be quick.”“I’ll be off in five minutes, sir,” cried the groom; and within the specified time the horse’s hoofs were clattering over the stable-yard as the man rode off.“Like my patient of whom I spoke!” said the doctor to himself. “Oh, it would be too horrible! Bah! What an idiot I am, thinking like that weak old lady there. What nonsense, to be sure!”But as he re-entered the room softly, and saw the shrinking, horror-stricken look with which at the very slight sound he made his friend started up, he asked himself whether it was possible that such a terrible change could have taken place, and the more he tried to drive the thought away the stronger it seemed to grow, shadowing him like some black mental cloud till he hardly dared to meet the young wife’s questioning eyes, as she besought him silently to help her in this time of need.
“Yes,” said Scales excitedly, as he bent over his patient, whom he had placed upon the floor of the study, after ordering fresh medical help to be fetched at once—“yes—there is hope.”
As he spoke, Kate Scarlett uttered a low wail, and Aunt Sophia caught her in her arms; but the stricken wife struggled to get free. “No, no; I shall not give way,” she panted; “I will be brave, and help.” For, as the doctor slowly continued his efforts to restore the circulation, there came at last a faint gasp; and soon after, the medical man from the village came in, cool and calm, to take in the situation at a glance.
By this time, Scarlett was breathing with some approach to the normal strength, and Scales turned to the new-comer. “Will you”—he began. He could say no more, from utter exhaustion and excitement, but sank over sidewise, fainting dead away, leaving the new-comer to complete his task.
It was not a long one now, for almost together James Scarlett and his friend opened their eyes and gazed about wildly.
The doctor was the first to recover himself, and he drank eagerly of the spirit and water held to his lips, and then rose and walked to the open window.
“I’m better now,” he said, returning to where his fellow professional was leaning over Scarlett, to whose wandering eyes the light of reason had not yet returned. “How is he now?”
“Coming round fast,” said the other.
“He’s dying?” moaned Lady Scarlett, as she saw her husband’s eyes slowly close once more.
“No, no,” said Scales quietly. “It is exhaustion and sleep. He’ll go off soundly now for many hours, and wake up nearly well.”
“Are you saying this to deceive me?” cried Lady Scarlett.
“Indeed, no; ask our friend here.”
Lady Scarlett looked at the other appealingly, and he confirmed his confrère’s words. But still she was not convinced, so pale and motionless Sir James lay, till the doctor signed to her to bend over and place her ear against her husband’s breast.
Then, as she heard the regular heavy pulsation of his heart, she uttered a low, sobbing, hysterical cry, turned to Scales, caught his hand in hers, kissed it again and again, and then crouched lower upon her knees at her husband’s side, weeping and praying during his heavy sleep.
The local doctor stayed for a couple of hours, and then, after a short consultation with Scales, shook hands. “You have done wonders,” he said on leaving.
“No,” said Scales quietly; “I only persevered.”
He found Aunt Sophia kneeling by Lady Scarlett’s side, pressing her to rise and partake of some tea which the old lady had ready for her, but only to obtain negative motions of the suffering little woman’s head, till Scales bent down and whispered—
“Yes, you must take it, Lady Scarlett; you will want all your strength perhaps when your husband wakes.”
His voice roused her and she rose at once, caught his hand in hers and kissed it again before going to a side-table and eating and drinking whatever Aunt Sophia placed in her hands.
“She’d make a splendid nurse,” said the doctor to himself, “so obedient and patient. I didn’t think she had it in her, but somehow I don’t quite like her and her ways.”
Just then he turned and met Prayle’s eyes fixed upon him rather curiously, and it seemed to him, in his own rather excited state, that his friend’s cousin was watching him in no very amiable way.
The thought passed off on the moment and he went down on one knee by Scarlett’s extemporised couch. For by this time the patient had been made comfortable where he lay with blankets and cushions. The doctor too had found time to change, and had prescribed for himself what he told Aunt Sophia was the tip-top of recuperators in such a case, a strong cup of tea with a tablespoonful of brandy.
“Poor old boy!” he said tenderly, as he laid his hand upon Scarlett’s breast. “Yes, your old heart’s doing its duty once again, and, and—confound it! what a weak fool I am.”
He remained very still for some minutes, so that no one should see the big hot tears that dropped in a most unprofessional fashion upon the blankets and glistened there. But it was a failure as far as one person was concerned, and he might just as well have taken out his handkerchief, wiped his eyes, and had one of those good sonorous blows of the nose indulged in by Englishmen when they feel affected; for under the most painful circumstances, however natural, it is of course exceedingly unmanly of the first made human being to cry. That luxury and relief of an overladen spirit is reserved for the Eves of creation. All the same though, there are few men who do not weep in times of intense mental agony. They almost invariably, however, and by long practice and custom, the result probably of assistance in accordance with Darwinian laws, contrive to switch the lines or rather ducts of their tears, shunt these saline globules of bitterness, and cry through the nose.
“There! he’s going on capitally now,” he said, after a time.—“Mr Prayle, you need not, stay.”
“Oh, I would rather wait,” said Prayle. “He may have a relapse.”
“Oh, I shall be with him,” said the doctor confidently. “I will ask you to leave us now, Mr Prayle. I want to keep the room quiet and cool.”
Arthur Prayle was disposed to resist; but a doctor is an autocrat in a sick-chamber, whom no one but a patient dare disobey; and the result was that Prayle unwillingly left the room.
“Got rid of him,” muttered the doctor.—“Now for the old maid,” who, by the way, has behaved like a trump.
“I don’t think you need stay, Miss Raleigh,” he whispered. “You must be very tired now.”
“Yes, Doctor Scales,” she said quietly; “but I will not go to bed. You may want a little help in the night.”
“I shall not leave my husband’s side,” said Lady Scarlett firmly.—“Oh, Doctor Scales, pray, pray, tell me the truth; keep nothing back. Is there any danger?”
“Upon my word, as a man, Lady Scarlett, there is none.”
“You are not deceiving me?”
“Indeed, no. Here is the case for yourself: he has been nearly drowned.”
“Yes, yes,” sobbed Lady Scarlett.
“Well, he has his breathing apparatus in order again, and is fast asleep. There is no disease.”
“No; I understand that,” said Lady Scarlett excitedly; “but—a relapse?”
“Relapse?” said the doctor in a low voice and laughing quietly. “Well, the only form of relapse he could have would be to tumble in again.”
“Don’t; pray, don’t laugh at me, doctor,” said Lady Scarlett piteously. “You cannot tell what I suffer.”
“O yes, I can,” he said kindly. “If I laughed then, it was only to give you confidence. He will wake up with a bad nervous headache, and that’s all.—Now, suppose you go and lie down.”
“No; I shall stay with my husband,” she said firmly. “I cannot go.”
“Well,” he said, “you shall stay.—Perhaps you will stay with us as well, Miss Raleigh,” he added. “We can shade the light; and he is so utterly exhausted, that even if we talk, I don’t think he will wake.”
“And he will not be worse?” whispered Lady Scarlett.
“Peoplewillnot have any confidence in their medical man. Come, now, I think you might trust me, after what I have done.”
“I do trust you, Doctor Scales, and believe in you as my husband’s best and dearest friend,” cried Lady Scarlett. “Heaven bless you for what you have done!” She hurriedly kissed his hand; and then, after a glance at her husband’s pale face, she went and sat upon the floor beside Aunt Sophia’s chair, laid her hands upon the elder lady’s knees, and hid her face, sitting there so motionless that she seemed to be asleep.
“I wish she would not do that,” muttered the doctor; and then: “I hate a woman who behaves in that lapdog way. I never liked her, and I don’t think I ever shall.”
It was a change indeed, the long watch through that night, and it was with a sigh of relief that the doctor saw the first grey light of morning stealing through the window. Only a few hours before and all had been so bright and sunny, now all was depression and gloom. When they started for their water trip trouble seemed a something that could not fall upon so happy a home. Aunt Sophia’s fears had only been a motive for mirth, and since then, with a rapidity that was like the lightning’s flash, this terrible shock had come upon them.
“Ah, well!” mused the doctor, as he stood at the window holding the blind a little on one side so as to gaze out at the grey sky, “it might have been worse, and it will make him more careful for the future. My word though, it was precious lucky that I was in the boat.”
He yawned slightly now, for there was no denying that the doctor was terribly sleepy. It was bad enough to lose a night’s rest, but the exhaustion he had suffered from his efforts made it worse, and in spite of his anxiety and eagerness to save his friend, there was no concealing the fact that unless he had risen and walked about now and then he would have fallen asleep.
Just as the sky was becoming flecked with tiny clouds of gold and orange, the first brightness that had been seen since the evening before, a few muttered words and a restless movement made doctor and wife hurry to the extempore couch.
“Kate! Where’s Kate?” exclaimed Scarlett in a hoarse cracked voice.
“I am here, dear—here at your side,” she whispered, laying her cheek to his.
“Has the boat gone over? Save Kate!”
“We are all safe, dear husband.”
“Fool!—idiot!—to go so near. So dangerous!” he cried excitedly. “Jack—Jack, old man—my wife—my wife!”
“It’s all right, old fellow,” said the doctor cheerily. “There, there; you only had a bit of a ducking—that’s all.”
“Scales—Jack!—Where am I? Where’s Kate?”
“Here, dear love, by your side.”
“My head!” panted the poor fellow. “I’m frightened. What does it mean? Why do you all stare at me like that? Here! what’s the matter? Have I had a dream?”
“He calm, old fellow,” said the doctor. “You’re all right now.”
“Catch hold of my hand, Kate,” he cried, drawing in his breath with a hiss. “There’s something wrong with—here—the back of my neck, and my head throbs terribly. Here! Have I been overboard? Why don’t you speak?”
“Scarlett, old fellow, be calm,” said the doctor firmly. “There; that’s better.”
“Yes; I’ll lie still. What a frightful headache! But tell me what it all means.—Ah! I remember now. The oar broke, and I went under. I was beaten down.—Jack—Kate, dear—do you hear me?”
“Yes, yes, dear love; yes, yes,” whispered Lady Scarlett, placing her arm round his neck and drawing his head upon her breast. “It was a nasty accident; but you are quite safe now.”
“Safe? Am I safe?” he whispered hoarsely. “That’s right, dear; hold me—tightly now.” He closed his eyes and shuddered, while Lady Scarlett gazed imploringly in the doctor’s face.
“The shock to his nerves,” he said quietly. “A bit upset; but he’ll be all right soon;” and as he spoke, the doctor laid his hand upon his friend’s pulse.
Scarlett uttered a piercing cry, starting and gazing wildly at his old companion. “Oh! It was you,” he panted, and he closed his eyes again, clinging tightly to his wife, as he whispered softly, “Don’t leave me, dear—don’t leave me.”
He seemed to calm down then and lay quite still muttering about the boat—the oar breaking—and the black water.
“It kept me down,” he said with another shudder, and speaking as if to himself. “It kept me down till I felt that I was drowning. Jack Scales,” he said aloud, “how does a man feel when he is drowned?”
“Don’t know, old fellow. Never was drowned,” said the doctor cheerily.—“Now, look here; it’s only just sunrise, so you’d better go to sleep again, and then you’ll wake up as lively as a cricket.”
“Sunrise?—sunrise?” said Scarlett excitedly—“sunrise?” And as he spoke he looked round from one to the other. “Why, you’ve been sitting up all night! Of course, I’m down here. Have I been very bad?”
The doctor hesitated for a few moments, and then, deeming it best to tell him all, he said quietly:
“Well, pretty bad, old fellow, but we brought you to again, and it’s all right now.”
“Yes, it’s all right now. It’s all right now,” muttered Scarlett, looking from one to the other, and then clinging tightly to his wife’s hand he closed his eyes once more, lay muttering for a time, and then seemed to be fast asleep.
Lady Scarlett kept following the doctor’s every movement with her wistful eyes till he said in a whisper: “Let him sleep, and I’ll come back presently.”
“Don’t you leave me, Kate,” cried Scarlett, shuddering.
“No, no, dear,” she said tenderly; and the poor fellow uttered a low sigh, and remained with his eyes closed, as the doctor softly left the room, beckoning to Aunt Sophia to follow him.
“I’m going to get a prescription made up,” he said. “I’ll send off the groom on one of the horses; there will be a place open in the town by the time he gets there.”
“Stop a moment,” said Aunt Sophia, clutching at his arm. “Tell me what, this means. Why is he like this?”
“Oh, it is only the reaction—the shock to his nerves. Poor fellow!” he muttered to himself, “he has been face to face with death.”
“Doctor Scales,” said Aunt Sophia, with her hand tightening upon his arm—“shock to his nerves! He is not going to be like that patient of yours you spoke of the other day?”
The sun was up, and streaming in upon them where they stood in the plant-bedecked hall, and it seemed as if its light had sent a flash into the soul of John Scales, M.D., as he gazed sharply into his querist’s eyes and then shuddered. For in these moments he seemed to see the owner of that delightful English home, him who, but a few hours before, had been all that was perfect in manly vigour and mental strength, changed into a stricken, nerveless, helpless man, clinging to his wife in the extremity of his child-like dread.
For the time being he could not speak, then struggling against the spell that seemed to hold him fast, he cried angrily—
“No, no! Absurd, absurd! Only a few hours’ rest, and he’ll be himself.”
He hurried into the study, and hastily wrote his prescription, taking it out directly to where the groom was just unfastening the stable-doors.
“Ride over to the town, sir? Yes, sir.—But, beg pardon, sir—Sir James, sir? Is he all right?”
“Oh, getting over it nicely, my man. Be quick.”
“I’ll be off in five minutes, sir,” cried the groom; and within the specified time the horse’s hoofs were clattering over the stable-yard as the man rode off.
“Like my patient of whom I spoke!” said the doctor to himself. “Oh, it would be too horrible! Bah! What an idiot I am, thinking like that weak old lady there. What nonsense, to be sure!”
But as he re-entered the room softly, and saw the shrinking, horror-stricken look with which at the very slight sound he made his friend started up, he asked himself whether it was possible that such a terrible change could have taken place, and the more he tried to drive the thought away the stronger it seemed to grow, shadowing him like some black mental cloud till he hardly dared to meet the young wife’s questioning eyes, as she besought him silently to help her in this time of need.
Volume One—Chapter Thirteen.After the Mishap.Such an accident could not occur without the news spreading pretty quickly; and in the course of the morning several of the neighbours drove over to make inquiries, the trouble having been so far magnified that, as it travelled in different directions, the number of drowned had varied from one to half-a-dozen; the most sensational report having it that the pleasure-boat had been sunk as well, and that men were busy at work trying to recover it up by the weir.The groom had returned; the patient had partaken of his sedative draught and sunk into a heavy sleep, watched by his wife; while the doctor had gone to lie down for a few hours’ rest, for, as he said, the excitement was at an end, and all that was needful now was plenty of sleep. Arthur Prayle had betaken himself to the garden, where he read, moralised, and watched John Monnick, who in his turn dug, moralised, and watched the visitor from beneath his overhanging brows.Aunt Sophia and Naomi were in the drawing-room reading and answering letters; the former doing the reading, the latter the answering from dictation; for there was a cessation from the visiting that had gone on all the morning.“Now I do hope they will leave us at peace,” said Aunt Sophia. “Talk, talk, talk, and always in the same strain. I do hate country visiting-calls; and I will not have my correspondence get behind.—Now then, my dear, where were we?”“East Boodle silver-lead mines,” said Naomi. “Ah, of course. Expect to pay a dividend of twelve and a half per cent?”“Yes, aunt dear,” said the girl, referring to a prospectus.“Humph! That’s very different from consols. I think I shall have some of those shares, Naomi.”“Do you, aunt?”“Do I, child? Why, of course. It’s like throwing money in the gutter, to be content with three per cent, when you can have twelve and a half. Write and tell Mr Saxby to buy me fifty shares.”“Yes, aunt dear. But do you think it would be safe?”“Safe, child? Yes, of course. You read what all those captains said—Captain Pengummon and Captain Trehum and Captain Polwhiddle.”“But Mr Saxby said, aunt, that some of these Cornish mines were very risky speculations; don’t you remember?”“No, my dear; I don’t. I wonder that I remember anything, after yesterday’s shock.”“But I remember, aunt dear,” said the girl. “He said that if these mines would pay such enormous dividends, was it likely that the shares would go begging, and the owners be obliged to advertise to get them taken up.”“Yes; and Captain Polwhiddle in his printed Report says that there is a lode of unexampled richness not yet tapped; though one would think the silver-lead was in a melted state, for them to have to tap it.”“Yes, aunt dear; but Mr Saxby said that these people always have a bit of rich ore on purpose to make a show.”“I don’t believe people would be so dishonest, my dear; and as for Mr Saxby—he’s a goose. No more courage or speculation in him than a frog. Not so much. A frog will travel about and investigate things; while Mr Saxby sits boxed up in his office all day long, and as soon as a good opportunity occurs, he spoils it. I might have made a large fortune by now, if it had not been for him. Write and tell him to buy me a hundred twenty-pound shares.”The letter was written, read over by Aunt Sophia, in a very judicial manner, through her gold-rimmed eyeglass, approved, and had just been addressed and stamped, when there was the sound of wheels once more, and the servant shortly after announced Lady Martlett.At the same moment the visitor and Doctor Scales entered the drawing-room from opposite doors, the latter feeling bright and refreshed by his nap; and Aunt Sophia and Naomi looked on wonderingly as Lady Martlett stopped short and the doctor smiled.Her Ladyship was the first to recover herself, and walked towards Aunt Sophia with stately carriage and extended hand. “I have only just heard of the accident,” she said in a sweet rich voice. “My dear Miss Raleigh, I am indeed deeply grieved.” She bent forward and kissed Aunt Sophia, and then embraced Naomi, before drawing herself up in a stately statuesque manner, darting a quick flash of her fine eyes at the doctor and haughtily waiting to be introduced.“It’s very kind of you, my dear Lady Martlett,” said Aunt Sophia—“very kind indeed; and I’m glad to say that, thanks to Doctor Scales here, my poor nephew has nearly recovered from the shock.—But I forgot; you have not been introduced. Lady Martlett; Doctor Scales.”“Doctor Scales and I have had the pleasure of meeting before,” said Lady Martlett coldly.“Yes,” said the doctor; “I had the pleasure of being of a little assistance to her Ladyship;” and as he spoke he took a sixpence out of his pocket, turned it over, advanced a step with the coin between his finger and thumb, as if about to hand it to its former owner; but instead of doing so, he replaced it in his pocket and smiled.Lady Martlett apparently paid no heed to this movement, but bowed and turned to Aunt Sophia; while the doctor said to himself: “Now, that was very weak, and decidedly impertinent. I deserved a snub.”“Doctor Scales and I met last week—the day before—really, I hardly recollect,” said Lady Martlett. “It was while I was out for a morning ride. He was polite enough to open a gate for me.”“Oh, indeed!” said Aunt Sophia quietly; and she wondered why the visitor should be so impressive about so trifling a matter.“And now, tell me all about the accident,” said Lady Martlett; “I am so fond of the water, and it seems so shocking for such an innocent amusement to be attended with so much risk.”“I was always afraid of the water,” said Aunt Sophia; “and not without reason,” she added severely; “but against my own convictions I went.”“But Sir James is in no danger?”“O dear, no,” said the doctor quickly.“I am glad of that,” said the visitor, without turning her head, and taking the announcement as if it had come from Aunt Sophia.“Thanks to Doctor Scales’s bravery and able treatment,” said Aunt Sophia.“Pray, spare me,” said the doctor, laughing. “I am so accustomed to blame, that I cannot bear praise.”“I am not praising you,” said Aunt Sophia, “but telling the simple truth.—What do you say, Naomi?”“I did not speak, aunt,” replied the girl.“Tut! child; who said you did?” cried Aunt Sophia pettishly. “You know that the doctor saved your cousin’s life.”“O yes, indeed,” cried Naomi, blushing, and looking up brightly and gratefully; and then shrinking and seeming conscious, as her eyes met those of their visitor gazing at her with an aspect mingled of contempt and anger—a look that made gentle, little, quiet Naomi retire as it were within herself, closing up her petals like some sensitive bud attacked by sun or rain.The doctor saw it, and had his thoughts upon the matter, as, upon his threatening to beat a retreat, Aunt Sophia said: “Well, never mind; I can think what I please.”“Think, then, by all means,” he said merrily.—“Flattery is hard to bear, Lady Martlett.”“I am not accustomed to flattery,” said the visitor coldly, and she turned away her head.“That is a fib,” said the doctor to himself, as he watched the handsome woman intently. “You are used to flattery—thick, slab, coarse flattery—to be told that you are extremely beautiful, and to receive adulation of the most abject kind. You are very rich, and people make themselves your slaves, till you think and look and move in that imperious way: and yet, some of these days,ma belle dame, you will be prostrate, and weak, and humble, and ready to implore Doctor somebody or another to restore you to health. Let’s see, though. I called youbelle dame. Rather suggestive, when shortened and pronounced after the old English fashion.—Well, Miss Raleigh, of what are you thinking?” he said aloud, as he turned and found Naomi watching him; Lady Martlett having risen and walked with Aunt Sophia into the conservatory.“I—I—”“Ah, ah!” said the doctor, laughing. “Come, confess; no evasions. You must always be frank with a medical man. Now then?”“You would be angry with me if I were to tell you,” said Naomi.“Indeed, no. Come, I’ll help you.”“Oh, thank you—do,” cried the girl with a sigh of relief, which seemed to mean: “You will never guess.”“You were thinking that I admired Lady Martlett.”“Yes! How did you know?” cried the girl, starting.“Diagnosed it, of course!” said the doctor, laughing. “Ah, you don’t know how easily we medical men read sensitive young faces like yours, and—Oh, here they come back.”In effect, Lady Martlett and Aunt Sophia returned to the drawing-room, the former lady entirely ignoring the presence of the doctor till she left, which she did soon afterwards, leaving the kindest of messages for Lady Scarlett, all full of condolence, and quite accepting the apologies for her non-appearance. Then there was the warmest of partings, while the doctor stood back, wondering whether he was to be noticed or passed over, the latter seeming to be likely; when, just as she reached the door, Lady Martlett turned and bowed in the most distant way.Then John Scales, M.D., stood alone in the drawing-room, listening to the voices in the hall as the door swung to.“Humph!” he said to himself. “What a woman! She’s glorious! I like her pride and that cool haughty way of hers! And what a voice!“No; it won’t do,” he muttered, after a short pause. “I’m not a marrying man—not likely to be a marrying man; and if I were, her Ladyship would say, with all reason upon her side: ‘The fellow must be mad! His insolence and assumption are not to be borne.’“I wish I had not shown her the sixpence, she will think me quite contemptible.”“Talking to yourself, doctor?” said Lady Scarlett, entering the room, looking very pale and anxious.“Yes, Lady Scarlett; it is one of my bad habits.—How is my patient?”“Sleeping pretty easily,” she said. “I came to ask you to come and look at him, though.”“What’s the matter?” cried the doctor sharply; and he was half-way to the door as he spoke.“Nothing, I hope,” exclaimed Lady Scarlett, trembling; “but he alarms me. I—I am afraid that I am quite unnerved.”The doctor did not make any comment till he had been and examined the patient for a few minutes, Lady Scarlett hardly daring to breathe the while; then he turned to her with a satisfied nod: “Only the sedative. You are over-anxious, and must have some rest.”This she refused to take, and the doctor had to give way.
Such an accident could not occur without the news spreading pretty quickly; and in the course of the morning several of the neighbours drove over to make inquiries, the trouble having been so far magnified that, as it travelled in different directions, the number of drowned had varied from one to half-a-dozen; the most sensational report having it that the pleasure-boat had been sunk as well, and that men were busy at work trying to recover it up by the weir.
The groom had returned; the patient had partaken of his sedative draught and sunk into a heavy sleep, watched by his wife; while the doctor had gone to lie down for a few hours’ rest, for, as he said, the excitement was at an end, and all that was needful now was plenty of sleep. Arthur Prayle had betaken himself to the garden, where he read, moralised, and watched John Monnick, who in his turn dug, moralised, and watched the visitor from beneath his overhanging brows.
Aunt Sophia and Naomi were in the drawing-room reading and answering letters; the former doing the reading, the latter the answering from dictation; for there was a cessation from the visiting that had gone on all the morning.
“Now I do hope they will leave us at peace,” said Aunt Sophia. “Talk, talk, talk, and always in the same strain. I do hate country visiting-calls; and I will not have my correspondence get behind.—Now then, my dear, where were we?”
“East Boodle silver-lead mines,” said Naomi. “Ah, of course. Expect to pay a dividend of twelve and a half per cent?”
“Yes, aunt dear,” said the girl, referring to a prospectus.
“Humph! That’s very different from consols. I think I shall have some of those shares, Naomi.”
“Do you, aunt?”
“Do I, child? Why, of course. It’s like throwing money in the gutter, to be content with three per cent, when you can have twelve and a half. Write and tell Mr Saxby to buy me fifty shares.”
“Yes, aunt dear. But do you think it would be safe?”
“Safe, child? Yes, of course. You read what all those captains said—Captain Pengummon and Captain Trehum and Captain Polwhiddle.”
“But Mr Saxby said, aunt, that some of these Cornish mines were very risky speculations; don’t you remember?”
“No, my dear; I don’t. I wonder that I remember anything, after yesterday’s shock.”
“But I remember, aunt dear,” said the girl. “He said that if these mines would pay such enormous dividends, was it likely that the shares would go begging, and the owners be obliged to advertise to get them taken up.”
“Yes; and Captain Polwhiddle in his printed Report says that there is a lode of unexampled richness not yet tapped; though one would think the silver-lead was in a melted state, for them to have to tap it.”
“Yes, aunt dear; but Mr Saxby said that these people always have a bit of rich ore on purpose to make a show.”
“I don’t believe people would be so dishonest, my dear; and as for Mr Saxby—he’s a goose. No more courage or speculation in him than a frog. Not so much. A frog will travel about and investigate things; while Mr Saxby sits boxed up in his office all day long, and as soon as a good opportunity occurs, he spoils it. I might have made a large fortune by now, if it had not been for him. Write and tell him to buy me a hundred twenty-pound shares.”
The letter was written, read over by Aunt Sophia, in a very judicial manner, through her gold-rimmed eyeglass, approved, and had just been addressed and stamped, when there was the sound of wheels once more, and the servant shortly after announced Lady Martlett.
At the same moment the visitor and Doctor Scales entered the drawing-room from opposite doors, the latter feeling bright and refreshed by his nap; and Aunt Sophia and Naomi looked on wonderingly as Lady Martlett stopped short and the doctor smiled.
Her Ladyship was the first to recover herself, and walked towards Aunt Sophia with stately carriage and extended hand. “I have only just heard of the accident,” she said in a sweet rich voice. “My dear Miss Raleigh, I am indeed deeply grieved.” She bent forward and kissed Aunt Sophia, and then embraced Naomi, before drawing herself up in a stately statuesque manner, darting a quick flash of her fine eyes at the doctor and haughtily waiting to be introduced.
“It’s very kind of you, my dear Lady Martlett,” said Aunt Sophia—“very kind indeed; and I’m glad to say that, thanks to Doctor Scales here, my poor nephew has nearly recovered from the shock.—But I forgot; you have not been introduced. Lady Martlett; Doctor Scales.”
“Doctor Scales and I have had the pleasure of meeting before,” said Lady Martlett coldly.
“Yes,” said the doctor; “I had the pleasure of being of a little assistance to her Ladyship;” and as he spoke he took a sixpence out of his pocket, turned it over, advanced a step with the coin between his finger and thumb, as if about to hand it to its former owner; but instead of doing so, he replaced it in his pocket and smiled.
Lady Martlett apparently paid no heed to this movement, but bowed and turned to Aunt Sophia; while the doctor said to himself: “Now, that was very weak, and decidedly impertinent. I deserved a snub.”
“Doctor Scales and I met last week—the day before—really, I hardly recollect,” said Lady Martlett. “It was while I was out for a morning ride. He was polite enough to open a gate for me.”
“Oh, indeed!” said Aunt Sophia quietly; and she wondered why the visitor should be so impressive about so trifling a matter.
“And now, tell me all about the accident,” said Lady Martlett; “I am so fond of the water, and it seems so shocking for such an innocent amusement to be attended with so much risk.”
“I was always afraid of the water,” said Aunt Sophia; “and not without reason,” she added severely; “but against my own convictions I went.”
“But Sir James is in no danger?”
“O dear, no,” said the doctor quickly.
“I am glad of that,” said the visitor, without turning her head, and taking the announcement as if it had come from Aunt Sophia.
“Thanks to Doctor Scales’s bravery and able treatment,” said Aunt Sophia.
“Pray, spare me,” said the doctor, laughing. “I am so accustomed to blame, that I cannot bear praise.”
“I am not praising you,” said Aunt Sophia, “but telling the simple truth.—What do you say, Naomi?”
“I did not speak, aunt,” replied the girl.
“Tut! child; who said you did?” cried Aunt Sophia pettishly. “You know that the doctor saved your cousin’s life.”
“O yes, indeed,” cried Naomi, blushing, and looking up brightly and gratefully; and then shrinking and seeming conscious, as her eyes met those of their visitor gazing at her with an aspect mingled of contempt and anger—a look that made gentle, little, quiet Naomi retire as it were within herself, closing up her petals like some sensitive bud attacked by sun or rain.
The doctor saw it, and had his thoughts upon the matter, as, upon his threatening to beat a retreat, Aunt Sophia said: “Well, never mind; I can think what I please.”
“Think, then, by all means,” he said merrily.—“Flattery is hard to bear, Lady Martlett.”
“I am not accustomed to flattery,” said the visitor coldly, and she turned away her head.
“That is a fib,” said the doctor to himself, as he watched the handsome woman intently. “You are used to flattery—thick, slab, coarse flattery—to be told that you are extremely beautiful, and to receive adulation of the most abject kind. You are very rich, and people make themselves your slaves, till you think and look and move in that imperious way: and yet, some of these days,ma belle dame, you will be prostrate, and weak, and humble, and ready to implore Doctor somebody or another to restore you to health. Let’s see, though. I called youbelle dame. Rather suggestive, when shortened and pronounced after the old English fashion.—Well, Miss Raleigh, of what are you thinking?” he said aloud, as he turned and found Naomi watching him; Lady Martlett having risen and walked with Aunt Sophia into the conservatory.
“I—I—”
“Ah, ah!” said the doctor, laughing. “Come, confess; no evasions. You must always be frank with a medical man. Now then?”
“You would be angry with me if I were to tell you,” said Naomi.
“Indeed, no. Come, I’ll help you.”
“Oh, thank you—do,” cried the girl with a sigh of relief, which seemed to mean: “You will never guess.”
“You were thinking that I admired Lady Martlett.”
“Yes! How did you know?” cried the girl, starting.
“Diagnosed it, of course!” said the doctor, laughing. “Ah, you don’t know how easily we medical men read sensitive young faces like yours, and—Oh, here they come back.”
In effect, Lady Martlett and Aunt Sophia returned to the drawing-room, the former lady entirely ignoring the presence of the doctor till she left, which she did soon afterwards, leaving the kindest of messages for Lady Scarlett, all full of condolence, and quite accepting the apologies for her non-appearance. Then there was the warmest of partings, while the doctor stood back, wondering whether he was to be noticed or passed over, the latter seeming to be likely; when, just as she reached the door, Lady Martlett turned and bowed in the most distant way.
Then John Scales, M.D., stood alone in the drawing-room, listening to the voices in the hall as the door swung to.
“Humph!” he said to himself. “What a woman! She’s glorious! I like her pride and that cool haughty way of hers! And what a voice!
“No; it won’t do,” he muttered, after a short pause. “I’m not a marrying man—not likely to be a marrying man; and if I were, her Ladyship would say, with all reason upon her side: ‘The fellow must be mad! His insolence and assumption are not to be borne.’
“I wish I had not shown her the sixpence, she will think me quite contemptible.”
“Talking to yourself, doctor?” said Lady Scarlett, entering the room, looking very pale and anxious.
“Yes, Lady Scarlett; it is one of my bad habits.—How is my patient?”
“Sleeping pretty easily,” she said. “I came to ask you to come and look at him, though.”
“What’s the matter?” cried the doctor sharply; and he was half-way to the door as he spoke.
“Nothing, I hope,” exclaimed Lady Scarlett, trembling; “but he alarms me. I—I am afraid that I am quite unnerved.”
The doctor did not make any comment till he had been and examined the patient for a few minutes, Lady Scarlett hardly daring to breathe the while; then he turned to her with a satisfied nod: “Only the sedative. You are over-anxious, and must have some rest.”
This she refused to take, and the doctor had to give way.