"I am well--at least, only tired--there is nothing the matter with me.
Aunt Milly ought not to have troubled you," still irritably.
"Aunt Milly knows trouble is sometimes a pleasure. You are not well, Olive, or you would not be so cross with your old friend."
She hesitated, put up her hand to her head, and looked ready to burst into tears.
"Come," he continued, sitting down beside her, and speaking gently as though to a child, "you are ill or unhappy--or both, and talking makes your head ache."
"Yes," she returned, mechanically, "it is always aching now, but it is nothing."
"Most people are not so stoical. You must not keep things so much to yourself, Olive. If you would own the truth I daresay you have felt languid and disinclined to move for several days?"
"I daresay. I cannot remember," she faltered; but his keen, steady glance was compelling her to rouse herself.
"And you have not slept well, and your limbs ache as though you were tired and bruised, and your thoughts get a little confused and troublesome towards evening."
"They are always that," she returned, heavily; but she did not refuse to answer the few professional questions that Dr. Heriot put. His grave manner, and the thoughtful way in which he watched Olive, caused Mildred some secret uneasiness; it struck her that the girl was a little incoherent in her talk.
"Well--well," he said, cheerfully, laying down the hand, "you must give up the fruitless struggle and submit to be nursed well again. Get her to bed, Miss Lambert, and keep her and the room as cool as possible. She will remain here, I suppose," he continued abruptly, and as Mildred a.s.sented, he seemed relieved. "I will send her some medicine at once. I shall see you downstairs presently," he finished pointedly; and Mildred, who understood him, returned in the affirmative. She was longing to have Dr. Heriot"s opinion; but she was too good a nurse not to make the patient her first consideration. Supper was over by the time the draught was administered, and Olive left fairly comfortable with Nan within earshot. The girls had already retired to their rooms, and Dr. Heriot was evidently waiting for Mildred, for he seemed absent and slightly inattentive to the vicar"s discourse. Richard, who was at work over some of his father"s papers, made no attempt to join in the conversation.
Mr. Lambert interrupted himself on Mildred"s entrance.
"By the bye, Milly, have you spoken to Heriot about Olive?"
"Yes, I have seen her, Mr. Lambert; her aunt was right; the girl is very far from well."
"Nothing serious, I hope," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the vicar, while Richard looked up quickly from his writing. Dr. Heriot looked a little embarra.s.sed.
"I shall judge better to-morrow; the symptoms will be more decided; but I am afraid--that is, I am nearly certain--that it is a touch of typhoid fever."
The stifled exclamation came not from the vicar, but from the farthest corner of the room. Mr. Lambert merely turned a little paler, and clasped his hands.
"G.o.d forbid, Heriot! That poor child!"
"We shall know in a few hours for certain--she is ill, very ill I should say."
"But she was with us, she dined with us to-day," gasped Richard, unable to comprehend what was the true state of the case.
"It is not uncommon for people who are really ill of fever to go about for some days until they can struggle with the feelings of illness no longer. To-night there is slight confusion and incoherence, and the ringing in the ears that is frequently the forerunner of delirium; she will be a little wandering to-night," he continued, turning to Mildred.
"You must give me your instructions," she returned, with the calmness of one to whom illness was no novelty; but Mr. Lambert interrupted her.
"Typhoid fever; the very thing that caused such mortality in the Farrer and Bales" cottages last year."
"I should not be surprised if we find Olive has been visiting there of late, and inhaling some of the poisonous gases. I have always said this place is enough to breed a fever; the water is unwholesome, too, and she is so careless that she may have forgotten how strongly I condemned it.
The want of waterworks, and the absence of the commonest precautions, are the crying evils of a place like this." And Dr. Heriot threw up his head and began to pace the room, as was his fashion when roused or excited, while he launched into bitter invectives against the suicidal ignorance that set health at defiance by permitting abuses that were enough to breed a pestilence.
The full amount of the evil was as yet unknown to Mildred; but sufficient detail was poured into her shrinking ear to justify Dr.
Heriot"s indignation, and she was not a little shocked to find the happy valley was not exempt from the taint of fatal ignorance and prejudice.
"Your old hobby, Heriot," said Mr. Lambert, with a faint smile; "but at least the Board of Guardians are taking up the question seriously now."
"How could they fail to do so after the last report of the medical officer of health? We shall get our waterworks now, I suppose, through stress of hard fighting; but----"
"But my poor child----" interrupted Mr. Lambert, anxiously.
Dr. Heriot paused in his restless walk.
"Will do well, I trust, with her youth, sound const.i.tution, and your sister"s good nursing. I was going to say," he continued, turning to Mr.
Lambert, "that with your old horror of fevers, you would be glad if the others were to be removed from any possible contagion that might arise; though, as I have already told you, that I cannot p.r.o.nounce decidedly whether it be the _typhus mitior_ or the other; in a few hours the symptoms will be decided. But anyhow it is as well to be on the safe side, and Polly and Chriss can come to me; we can find plenty of room for Richard and Royal as well."
"You need not arrange for me--I shall stay with my father and Aunt Milly," returned Richard abruptly, tossing back the wave of dark hair that lay on his forehead, and pushing away his chair.
"Nay, Cardie, I shall not need you; and your aunt will find more leisure for her nursing if you are all off her hands. I shall be easier too.
Heriot knows my old nervousness in this respect.
"I shall not leave you, father," was Richard"s sole rejoinder; but his father"s affectionate and anxious glance was unperceived as he quickly gathered up the papers and left the room.
"I think d.i.c.k is right," returned Dr. Heriot, cheerfully. "The vicarage need not be cleared as though it were the pestilence. Now, Miss Lambert, I will give you a few directions, and then I must say good-night."
When Mildred returned to her charge, she found Richard standing by the bedside, contemplating his sister with a grave, impa.s.sive face. Olive did not seem to notice him; she was moving restlessly on her pillow, her dark hair unbound and falling on her flushed face. Richard gathered it up gently and looked at his aunt.
"We may have to get rid of some of it to-morrow," she whispered; "what a pity, it is so long and beautiful; but it will prevent her losing all.
You must not stay now, Richard; I fancy it disturbs her," as Olive muttered something drowsily, and flung her arms about a little wildly; "leave her to me to-night, dear; I will come to you first thing to-morrow morning, and tell you how she is."
"Thank you," he replied, gratefully.
Mildred was not wrong in her surmises that something like remorse for his unkindness made him stoop over the bed with the softly uttered "Good-night, Livy."
"Good-night," she returned, drowsily. "Don"t trouble about me, Cardie;"
and with that he was fain to retire.
Things continued in much the same state for days. Dr. Heriot"s opinion of the nature of the disease was fully confirmed. There was no abatement of fever, but an increase of debility. Olive"s delirium was never violent--it was rather a restlessness and confusion of thought; she lay for hours in a semi-somnolent state, half-muttering to herself, yet without distinct articulation. Now and then a question would rouse her, and she would give a rational answer; but she soon fell back into the old drowsy state again.
Her nights were especially troubled in this respect. In the day she was comparatively quiet; but for many successive nights all natural sleep departed from her, and her confused and incoherent talk was very painful to hear.
Mildred fancied that Richard"s presence made her more restless than at other times; but when she hinted this, he looked so pained that she could not find it in her heart to banish him, especially as his ready strength and a.s.sistance were a great comfort to her. Mildred had refused all exterior help. Nan"s watchful care was always available during her hours of necessary repose, and Mildred had been so well trained in the school of nursing, that a few hours" sound sleep would send her back to her post rested and refreshed. Dr. Heriot"s admiration of his model nurse, as he called her, was genuine and loudly expressed; and he often a.s.sured Mr. Lambert, when unfavourable symptoms set in, that if Olive recovered it would be mainly owing to her aunt"s unwearied nursing.
Mildred often wondered what she would have done without Richard, as Olive grew weaker, and the slightest exertion brought on fainting, or covered her with a cold, clammy sweat. Richard"s strong arms were of use now to lift her into easier positions. Mildred never suffered him to share in the night watches, for which she and Nan were all-sufficient; but the last thing at night, and often before the early dawn, his pale anxious face would be seen outside the door; and all through the day he was ever at hand to render valuable a.s.sistance. Once Mildred was surprised to hear her name softly called from the far end of the lobby, and on going out she found herself face to face with Ethel Trelawny.
"Oh, Ethel! this is very wrong. Your father----"
"I told her so," returned Richard, who looked half grateful and half uneasy; "but she would come--she said she must see you. Aunt Milly looks pale," he continued, turning to Ethel; "but we cannot be surprised at that--she gets so little sleep."
"You will be worn out, Mildred. Papa will be angry, I know; but I cannot help it. I mean to stay and nurse Olive."
"My dear Ethel!" Richard uttered an incredulous exclamation; but Miss Trelawny was evidently in earnest; her fine countenance looked pale and saddened.