ALL THE TRUTH.
The house wherein Sidney was waiting for the best or worst, was situated in Bayswater. A house that had been taken at Maurice's expense, and by Dr. Bario's suggestion. The Italian doctor was a man with a love of effect—one of those stagey beings whom we meet occasionally in England, and more often on the Continent. He was fond of mystery; it enhanced the surprise, and gained him popularity. He was a clever man, but he was also a vain one.
His style of practice he kept to himself; whether his cures were effected by the common methods of treatment, or by methods of his own, were hard to arrive at; he bound his patients and his patients' friends to secrecy; some of his English medical contemporaries called him a quack, others a mad-man—a few, just a few, to leaven the mass, thought that there was something in him. Abroad he was at the top of the tree and sought after—matter-of-fact England not being able to make him out, eyed him suspiciously.
Mattie and Harriet were ushered into a well-furnished room on the first floor, where Maurice Hinchford awaited them. He went towards them at once, and shook hands with them—even with Harriet Wesden, who had faced him with such stern words during their last interview. There was a common cause that bound all three together, and the past was forgotten.
"We are in time?" asked Mattie.
"Plenty of time, thank you."
"Where is Sidney?"
"In the room beyond there, where the curtain hangs before the door."
"Have you told him that we are here?" asked Mattie.
"Yes, he is very anxious to speak with you both before he is left in Dr. Bario's hands."
"You are hopeful of good results?" asked Harriet.
"Yes—very hopeful—are not you?" he asked curiously.
"No—I fear the worst."
"You have not considered the matter, Miss Wesden—this has come upon you with the shock of a surprise, and hence the feeling that distresses you. But I say he shall get better—we have all determined to make an extraordinary case of him."
"Hush, sir!—he is in God's hands, not yours," said Harriet.
"I beg pardon—of course."
Maurice withdrew, a little downcast at Harriet's reproof; he had assumed an over-cheerful air to set them at their ease, and they had not understood him. They fancied that he was not anxious, when he felt all a brother's suspense. He had been with Sidney day and night; he had studied Sid's wishes, sought to keep him cheerful, read to him, had wound himself into Sid's heart, and by the act enlarged his own and purified it. The cousins understood each other; all the past had been atoned for now; there was no element of bitterness in the forgiveness which Maurice had sought and Sidney granted.
Maurice was called away, and presently returned with the Italian doctor, to whom he introduced Miss Wesden.
"What is there to fear, sir?" was Harriet's first question.
She had heard all from Mattie, but was not satisfied until all had been told her again from the doctor's lips. He still spoke of the chances for and against success.
Presently, and before he had concluded, Mr. Geoffry Hinchford was ushered into the room and introduced to the ladies there.
After a bow of the old-fashioned school, he said—
"This young lady," indicating Mattie, "I have had the pleasure of seeing before. Some years ago, when she thought I had a design to rob a shop in Suffolk Street. Am I right, Miss Gray?"
He spoke in jest, but Mattie responded gravely enough. It was no time for jesting, and she thought that Mr. Geoffry Hinchford's remarks were strangely mal-ápropos. His manner changed, when he faced Doctor Bario in his turn.
"You most cure this patient, sir, and name your own terms. My son and I will chance your breaking the bank."
"You are good—very," said the pleased doctor, "and I am much obliged."
"We shall have him at his old post, I hope, ladies," said he, veering round to the fair sex again. "A banking-house is his proper sphere—he will rise to greatness with a fair chance. I do not know any man who deserves greatness better—a true man of business—what a contrast to his poor father!"
Maurice had withdrawn, and now returned again.
"He is ready to see the ladies now; keep him up, please, and speak cheerfully of the future—that's right, doctor, I believe?"
"Quite right."
"One at a time. Mattie, he will see you first, he says."
Mattie's heart leaped anew at this; she passed beneath the curtain which Maurice Hinchford held above her head, and went through the door to a large room where Sidney was awaiting her. The sun was shining through the windows upon him—a pale, calm figure, sitting there.
"Mattie," he said.
"Yes—I have come."
The door opened again, and Doctor Bario entered, taking up a position where he could watch his patient's face. There must be nothing calculated to excite his patient now.
Sidney shook hands with Mattie, saying—
"It has come at last—and we shall know the worst or the best in a few minutes."
"You are not nervous of the result?—your pulse beats calmly, Sidney."
"I have steeled my nerves to it—I shall not shrink, and I am hopeful."
"Miss Wesden is here."
"You fetched her hither, Maurice tells me," he answered. "You are not a jealous woman, Mattie."
"Have I a right to be jealous yet, before my mind is made up?" she answered, lightly.
"The month draws on apace—I am looking forward to the future."
"Time," said Doctor Bario, and Mattie withdrew, after a silent pressure of hands, given and returned. Mattie went towards the doctor instead of the door.
"These interviews must tend to excite him—his pulse is less regular than it was, sir."
"I am sorry for it," said Bario, coolly, "but he will have his way—he is one man impetuous in that. He thinks it is better, in case of anything!"
Mattie backed from him in horror; did Sid fear the result of the experiment himself now? Harriet was waiting anxiously for her return.
"Be careful," whispered Mattie, as she passed in, and Mattie followed her with her wistful eyes. They were a long while together, she thought; longer than was necessary, or Doctor Bario should have allowed. What had Harriet Wesden to say to him?—what would she say in moments like those?
The curtain was drawn back, and Harriet, with flushed cheeks, and tearful eyes, came rapidly towards Mattie.
"What have you said to him?" asked Mattie, almost fiercely.
"What I would have said to him had he been dying—as he will die!—oh! as he will die, I am sure of it."
"I pray God not," ejaculated Mattie.
"I asked him if he had forgiven me—if he would believe that when he gave me up I loved him with my whole heart, and looked for no happiness without him."
"You told him that!—you dared to tell him that at such a time!"
"I could not have told him at any other, and he was about to be sacrificed by his own will and these mad relations, who have persuaded him to this! He will die, I am sure of it."
"Don't say it again—I must hope, Harriet, and you drive me mad by this excitability. What have you done?"
"Strengthened his courage—been rewarded by the 'God bless you, Harriet!' which escaped him."
"Did he say no more?"
"Nothing but 'Too late!' In his heart he must feel that he will die, or he would not have said that. Oh! those awful words, which will ring in our ears and be our torment when this is over. Mattie, I must stop it!"
Mattie held the excited girl in her own strong arms, and backed her to a greater distance from the door of the room where Sidney was; at the same moment the banker returned from his fugitive interview with his nephew, and stood at the window taking snuff by wholesale. A confusion seemed to suddenly pervade the scene; an assistant, then another entered, and passed into Sidney's room; a third assistant ushered across the room wherein they waited, a physician, with whom Mr. Geoffry Hinchford shook hands, and took snuff for an instant. Maurice looked through the curtain for an instant, held up his hand, and then withdrew again. The instant afterwards the door was locked on the inner side, and a silence as of death settled upon the three watchers without.
All was still; the thick walls and the closed doors deadened every sound. Once and only once Dr. Bario's voice giving some orders startled the banker and the two girls cowering at the extremity of the room.
"How still!" whispered Harriet at last, and Mattie bade her be silent. Mattie was listening with strained ears for sounds from within, and the fear that had beset Harriet settled at last upon herself and unnerved her. How long would it be now, each thought and wondered—minutes, hours, or what?
"This waiting is very awful," said Mr. Geoffry Hinchford, suddenly, and Mattie bade him hush also, in an angry tone that made him jump again.
Suddenly the door was unlocked, and the three started up with clenched hands and suspended breath. Two of the assistants came forth hurriedly, and went out of the room. To the eager questions that were put to them they answered something in Italian, and balked the longing of their questioners. Then Maurice appeared, and cried,
"Success!—success! A statue in gold for Dr. Bario! The——"
"Hinchford," called the doctor from within, "come back—he calls you."
"No, not me," said Maurice, whose ears caught the English accent more perfectly, "he calls Harriet—may she come?"
"Yes, for an instant—quick!"
Harriet darted across the room with a suppressed cry; the old fear had seized her again.
"He is dying!—I knew it!"
"No, no, he will live for you!" cried Mattie, wringing her hands together; "go to him!"
Harriet passed into the room, and recoiled for an instant at the utter darkness and blackness of the place she had left so light. Maurice put his hands upon her wrist, and drew her forwards. Dr. Bario's voice arrested him.
"He has fainted—take her out again. He must speak to no one any more to-day."
"But he will die!—oh! sir, will he not die?" cried Harriet.
"He will live; he will be as well in three weeks as ever—please withdraw."
Harriet and Maurice Hinchford came back together.
"There is no use in waiting," Maurice said; "the result is as successful as I anticipated. Let me recommend you to return home at once, Miss Wesden. Miss Gray will accompany you, I am sure."
"Mattie, will you come with me?" asked Harriet, faintly.
Mattie moved like an automaton towards her, and the two went out together arm-in-arm, down the broad staircase to the hall, from the hall to the street, where Maurice's cab still waited for them.
"I am faint and ill, Mattie," said Harriet, sinking back.
"Will you rest awhile?"
"No—let us get home at once. How coldly and quietly you take this news, Mattie!" she said, looking intently at her; "ah! if you had only loved him like me all your life!"
"If I had!" murmured Mattie, "this would have broken my heart!"
"Hearts don't break with joy, Mattie, or I should not see another morning."
"No. You are right—not with joy!"