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CHAPTER XXVII

BY the next morning Henley was delirious, his temperature registered 104; it ascended yet higher and registered the dangerous figures 105 on the little clinical thermometer. Kate, who had really known very little of illness before in her life, was, for a few hours at least, carried completely out of herself. Her love for the sick man rose in all its passionate intensity. She had sat up all night devouring his face, her heart beating high, her own pulse almost at fever speed, and when the doctor came in the morning the look that she fastened on him almost unnerved this somewhat stoical but kind-hearted young man. He saw her and Mr. and Mrs. Hume in the next room.

"What I feared last night I am now almost certain of," he said. "This is a case of blood-poisoning, and I believe that Henley is sickening for a very serious typhoid attack. We cannot be absolutely certain whether it will turn to typhoid or diphtheria for the next twenty-four hours, but I do not think the condition of the throat sufficiently inflamed for diphtheria, and there are other symptoms which point directly to typhoid."

"Typhoid! Diphtheria!" said Kate in a low tone. She raised her eyes and looked for a momentuabsolutely dumb with misery.

"Which is the longest of the two complaints?" she asked then.

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"The longest, and in my opinion the most dangerous, is typhoid," answered the doctor. "We now have certain remedies for diphtheria which as a rule minimise its danger, but I do not think your husband is going to have diphtheria, so we need not discuss it. His throat is much affected, but this symptom may quickly be relieved."

"And how long is an attack of typhoid?"

"Any time from twenty-one days to six or even eight weeks."

Kate turned so white that she had to catch hold of the nearest chair to support herself.

"Well, dear," said her aunt very kindly, "it is a good thing you are here, far better than being at an hotel. All that this house contains is at your service."

"There is one thing, Mrs. Henley," said the doctor in a quick voice, "you must have assistance in the nursing, you must have not only one, but two, nurses--one for day duty and one for night duty. You yourself of course can be present with your husband as much as your strength will allow, but this typhoid is a nasty thing; it is a severe struggle between life and death. Even the most favourable cases may become dangerous at a moment's notice. You never can tell what the fell disease will do, nor what turn it will take. Much more depends on the nurse than the doctor, and the patient's strength must be kept up. He must have food day and night at least every hour--food of a certain quality, directions for which I will leave. I will send in two capable nurses accustomed to typhoid within the next few hours. I will go at once and see about them."

He left the room and Kate listened to his retreating footsteps as he went downstairs. He was wearing | | 272 new boots and they creaked very, very slightly. The creak of the doctor's boots seemed to get upon her tired brain. She raised both her hands and clasped them round her head; her face wore a wild expression.

"Don't give way, Kitty," said her aunt; "I know how devotedly you love that poor fellow, but pray God, he may recover. We must turn to our God in this hour of sore trouble, my child. Oh, my Kitty, don't repulse me."

Mrs. Hume had held out her motherly arms; the girl hesitated for a moment, then she flung herself into them.

"Help me, pray for me," she said with a sob; "my burden is greater than I can bear."

"No, no, Kate; no burden can be that," said Mrs. Hume. "Pray to God, child; turn to the Deliverer in this hour of your need."

"I cannot," said Kate, in a dry choking voice, "and it is that which makes it so hard."

"Why not, my darling? in the old days you were religious, Kitty."

"In the old days!" said Kate--"for God's sake don't remind me of them now; I shall go mad if you do. Oh dear! oh dear! oh my heart! my heart!" She clasped her hand to her palpitating breast, her eyes looked wilder than ever. The handle of the door was softly turned and Hume came in.

"This is very sad news," he said. "Dr. Thornton is full of apprehension. Oh, Kate, my poor child, I did not notice you."

"Never mind me, I have heard a very plain-spoken opinion," said Kate. She leant up against the wall.

"We will do all we can for him, and I don't believe myself half what doctors say," said Mr. Hume; "they | | 273 always make the worst of things, imagining that their glory will be the greater when recovery takes place. It is not at all likely that a strong man like Henley will succumb to a mere illness. He will just have a sharp bout and be as well as ever again. But, Kitty, my dear, you had better allow me to go down to Tilbury and see the captain of the Hydra. He will doubtless be able to sell your tickets to some other passengers. By the way, have you got them?"

Kate knit her brows.

"The tickets don't matter," she said; "we can get others."

"But that is really silly, my dear--first-class tickets to Australia cost a great deal, and very likely some other passengers will be only too glad to avail themselves of them. Find them, dear, and I will take them at once and try to get rid of them. You will have to postpone your voyage for at least three months."

"Oh, then we may as well never go," said Kate.

Mr. Hume looked at her with some curiosity.

"Why do you say that?"

"Don't speak to me about anything now, Uncle Robert; I cannot take in what you are saying, everything is too dark."

She left the room and went to the room which had been arranged for herself. There she found the tickets and brought them back to her uncle. She handed them to him without a word.

Mrs. Hume stole softly into the sick-chamber; she intended to sit for a few hours with Henley until the trained nurses arrived. Kate went and stood by the window of her own room. Presently a light step was heard in the room; she turned her head, Marryat was there.

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"I am very sorry for you, ma'am; this is very bad news."

"It is distracting news," said Kate. "I wish to heaven I had not given up the tickets; I was mad to do it."

"Why, madam, what possible use could they be to you? Mr. Henley certainly cannot be moved from here on Thursday."

"Oh, I know that; I don't realise what I am saying. Oh, Marryat, aren't you--not that it matters--but aren't you sorry for me?"

"I am, and for him, dear gentleman," said the maid stoutly. "You ought to think of nothing now, ma'am, not even of that secret of yours, but just of your dear husband alone. May it please the Almighty to raise him up! But you must nurse your own strength, madam. You stay here and I will bring you some breakfast. Don't fret now, dear; you have been up all night, and, dear heart, you are not used to it. Let me take off this dress and put you into one of your comfortable tea-gowns, then you shall lie down and I will bring you some breakfast myself."

"Oh, do, Marryat; how kind you are!" said the poor girl.

"There's just one thing I should like to say," continued the maid, as she unhooked Kate's dress and took it off, and got her mistress into a warm and comfortable tea-gown, "there's just one thing I should like to say, and it's this: Keep away from Miss Mary, stay up here as much as you can. I am not the best of women, and I always look to number one, but there are times when I'd be a fiend if I didn't take your part, madam."

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"Oh, yes, yes, you would indeed be a fiend," said Kate, "but my head aches so much that I can scarcely think. Get me a cup of strong tea, Marryat, and then for God's sake leave me alone."

Marryat slipped softly out of the room, she glided downstairs. There was no fear of her boots creaking as she walked, she knew better than that. In the hall downstairs she came plump up against Mary.

"Well," said Mary Hume in an eager voice, "how is she bearing it?"

"Much as you would bear it, Miss Mary, if your husband, that is, if you ever have the luck to have one, was lying at death's door."

"Oh, that's no answer whatever," said Mary. "Is she feeling put out about not going on Thursday? That, doubtless, is the sorest of her present worries."

"She naturally, Miss Hume, thinks of no one but the man who lies in such terrible danger," said the maid. "But don't keep me, Miss; I want to fetch some breakfast for my poor mistress."

Marryat brought the breakfast and Kate was induced to eat a little; then the maid, seeing she could do nothing further, left her.

"Mrs. Hume is in the sick-room," she said, "and I also shall be within call. The nurses are expected any moment. Now you will rest for a little, Mrs. Henley; promise me, ma'am, that you will lie down."

Kate promised--she would promise anything at that moment to get rid of Marryat. At last the door was shut and she was alone. When she found herself so she sprang immediately to her feet. She began to pace up and down the length of the room. She found she could think more clearly and consecutively while in motion than when perfectly still. The more | | 276 she thought, the more perplexed, miserable, and terrified she grew.

"If I allow this terror to gain the upper hand I shall be undone," she thought. "It is not only the fact that Ralph is so ill, that the man I love to distraction is at death's door, it is not only that--I myself am in peril, in the most awful peril. This delay is exactly as if God Himself, with a flaming sword, stood in my path. What am I to do? What shall I do? I dare not pray, I cannot pray, and yet I must, I must do something."

At that moment a sound of voices outside reached her ears, she stole softly to the window and saw with a momentary sense of satisfaction that Ethel and Mary had gone for a walk. They had stood for a moment under her window talking together, and then quickly, as if in a hurry, had started to walk down the avenue.

"She is out of the house, that is one comfort," thought Mrs. Henley, as she looked after Mary.

"If only I had not parted with those tickets," she said to herself. "If I had them I should feel that there was at least a chance of my getting away, then should the worst come out I should be in another hemisphere, the danger to myself would not be so great. The best thing I can do after all is to go. Oh dear! oh dear! why did I part with the tickets?"

She thought hard for a moment or two, she had not seen her uncle go to town. As a rule, the dog-cart came for him and he started on his way to his place of business an hour or an hour and a half before now, but as she had not heard the sound of wheels it occurred to her that for some reason he might have postponed his departure.

"If so, I will try and get the tickets from him in | | 277 some way or other; I will get them, I will make an excuse, anything to have them back again in my hands," thought Kate.

This idea had scarcely come to her before she proceeded to act upon it. Her soft tea-gown made her look completely dressed. Without waiting to make any addition to her toilet she ran downstairs. She knocked at her uncle's study door; there was no answer, she went in. Yes, beyond doubt the bird had flown--the fire had not been lit in the grate, the windows were partly open, and there, on the study table, just as if he had laid them down and forgotten them, was the envelope which contained the tickets for the voyage to Australia.

"He has gone, he has forgotten all about these," thought Kate. "He shall not have them now." She clasped them wildly to her heart, slipped them into the front of her dress and ran upstairs. She was quite panting with excitement. Not a soul had seen her leave her room, not a soul had seen her return to it; she felt a sense of immediate comfort with the knowledge that the tickets were in her possession. After all, at the worst, she could go on Thursday, make an excuse to her husband, take her passage, and be off. Doubtless she would not do so, but she had at least this weapon of defence in her hand.

She now dressed in her ordinary clothes and went back to the sick-room. She sat down by Ralph's side. He was still quite delirious, but was more or less stupid owing to the medicines he was taking. He was lying in that sort of wakeful sleep which is so trying both to patient and friends.

Mrs. Hume, when Kate entered, went out very | | 278 gently. She went downstairs--her daughters had now returned from their walk.

"Well, my dears," said Mrs. Hume, "we must make up our minds to a sick house for the present. I have been planning how things ought to he. The doctor says that Ralph is in for a very long illness. Fortunately I gave the young people the largest room in the house, and there is a nice dressing-room attached which could be for the use of the nurse. The nurse off duty could have a room next to the servant's to sleep in, but I was thinking, Ethel and Mary, that it would be a good plan if you moved from your present rooms to some in the west wing, so as to allow poor Kate to have her own part of the house to herself."

"Most inconvenient," said Mary; "why should we do it?"

"Only out of kindness, dear. She is terribly to be pitied."

"Indeed she is," said Ethel, "so loving as she is--such a darling. It is a fearful blow to her."

"Not going to Australia on Thursday must be a frightful blow," said Mary in her quietest tone.

"Oh, Mary, how can you speak like that? Your father has gone to try and exchange the tickets; he will doubtless be able to succeed."

"Did Kate give up the tickets to father?" said Mary.

"Yes, why shouldn't she? what possible use could she have for them on Thursday?"

"Oh, none," said Mary, "only I rather wondered, that is all. Mother, I see I am in the way here. I cannot feel at present any charitable feelings towards Kate. You and Ethel can pet her to your | | 279 heart's desire; you still believe in her; you think her good and true--well, I don't."

"Oh, my poor Mary!" said Mrs. Hume.

"You may pity me, mother, for I am very unhappy at present, but I am in full possession of all my faculties. I should like, however, to leave home; I will go and stay with Aunt Maud in Russell Square."

The Aunt Maud to whom Mary referred was her mother's sister. Mrs. Hume's brow quite cleared.

"That is an excellent idea," she said, "but are you sure that your aunt is at home?"

"You had a letter from her yourself last week, mother, and I think she said in it she would return yesterday. I will go to her and ask her to take me in. My absence from home just now will be a relief to you all."

"Well, if you still continue to distrust Kate, it will be a relief," said Mrs. Hume.

"I will go and pack," said Mary, "then Ethel can move into any small room suitable for her. Come, Ethel, and help me."

She took Ethel's hand, and the two girls went upstairs.

"It is a relief," thought Mrs. Hume. "Mary is very queer at present. Ah, I doubt not that cab coming down the avenue contains the nurses."

It did. Two capable-looking, bright-faced young women appeared. Mrs. Hume immediately felt as if a great responsibility was lifted from her own hands. She had an interview with them downstairs, and then, taking them up, ushered them into the bedroom which had been hastily got ready for Kate. She went to the door of the sick-room and motioned Mrs. Henley to come to her.

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"Here are the nurses, dear," she said. "Nurse Bryan, who wishes to take the day nursing, and Nurse Simpson, who will look after your husband at night. Nurse Simpson has been up all last night, and would be glad to go to bed at once. That I can manage. Nurse Bryan says she will go on duty immediately."

"I should just like to put on my cap and apron," said Nurse Bryan, speaking in a cheery voice, "and then, perhaps, Mrs. Henley, you will take me into the sick-room and just show me where I can find things. I will soon have the poor gentleman quite comfortable. You must bear up, my dear," she added, and the kindly woman laid her hand on Kate's arm.

Kate shuddered at the touch. What did nurses mean? Horrible illness, often death. Oh, she loathed the look of both these capable women; then they would take possession of her husband and keep her away from him, and if things really came to the worst--and she--she had to leave--she would like to say good-bye to him all--yes, quite alone. Oh, it was awful! How was she to bear the terrible strain?

Mrs. Hume motioned to the two nurses to follow her; just as she got to the door she turned to Kate.

"I am making arrangements for your comfort, Kate," she said, "and Mary and Ethel are moving out of their present bedroom. The room can be used as a sitting-room for the nurses, and to keep medicines and all sorts of nourishment in. It will be very useful. Thus, my dear, you and your husband will have the entire of this east wing to yourselves."

"How kind you are!" said Kate; then she added, "but won't it be very inconvenient?"

"Not at all. Did I not tell you that Mary is going away for a week or so?"

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"Mary going away!" said Kate--her whole face lit up with as keen an expression of ecstasy as if some one had said to her that her husband was out of danger.

"Yes, dear," answered Mrs. Hume, noticing how the wilful expressive face changed and brightened, "in some ways it will doubtless be a relief. Ethel will have the room next her father's and mine."

Mrs. Hume went away followed by the nurses. Kate almost felt as if she could clap her hands.

"That is a blessing," she said to herself; "perhaps after all the tide is going to turn in my favour. I have got back the tickets, and that awful spy Mary is leaving the house." She felt almost cheerful when Nurse Bryan returned.

"We must trust in God, Mrs. Henley," said that good woman; "I have often nursed typhoid cases before and never lost one. Now, will you take me into the sick-room?"