Volume Three—Chapter Six.
The Doctor is Eccentric.
“Want me to attend Miss Leo Salis? Not I. Send to King’s Hampton for old—”
“But, please, sir.”
“Please, sir? Yes, you do please this sir. Why, you pretty little, apple-faced, sloe-eyed, cherry-cheeked piece of human fruit! Here, let’s have a look at your little face!”
“Oh, Dr North! For shame! You shouldn’t.”
There was the sound of a smart kiss, and then Horace North stood gazing wildly at Dally as she made believe to be very much hurt in her dignity.
“You shouldn’t, sir, and Miss Leo all the time a-dying.”
“Miss Leo—very ill?”
“Yes, sir; I told you so, and then you began talking nonsense and hauling me about. I feel quite ashamed.”
“But I cannot go to her, girl. It is impossible,” cried North excitedly.
“But master said I was to fetch you, sir. Oh, I wouldn’t ha’ thought it of you!”
“I beg your pardon, Dally, I was not thinking. I—I—when was she taken bad?”
“Sudden like—early this morning, sir. You will come, won’t you? We’re quite frightened.”
“Yes, I’ll come,” said North quickly. “By what strange irony of fate am I called upon again to attend on her?” he thought to himself, as he recalled her last illness, and the way in which she had declared her passion for him.
“Idiot! fool!” he said. “What a mere child! And I a medical man, and let my weak vanity carry me away so that I could not see that all was delirium.”
“Did you speak, sir?” said Dally, who trotted beside him as he walked with rapid strides towards the Rectory.
“No. Yes. How was it all?”
“Well, sir, I hardly know; only that I left Miss Leo this morning for a minute, and when I came back she’d been drinking something out of a glass, and looked as if she’d poisoned herself.”
“Absurd! But this morning? How came you to be with her this morning? Why, it is only five now.”
“No, sir. We were up very early.”
“Early? Why, you look as if you had not been to bed. Here, Dally, what has been going on at the Rectory?”
“Going on, sir? Oh, I couldn’t tell you. And here’s master, sir; ask him.”
In fact, Salis had just run down from Leo’s room to see if the doctor was coming, and, on catching sight of him, came to hurry him on.
“For Heaven’s sake be quick!” he cried. “Leo is dying!”
North hurried in with him, and upstairs, to find Leo lying upon the bed where her brother had placed her, pale, motionless, and with her eyes half closed.
“Don’t ask questions, but act,” panted Salis.
“I am acting,” said North sternly, as he bent over his patient, and rapidly grasped the position. “Do you know what she has taken?”
“No.”
“What poisons have you in the house?”
“None.”
“Humph!” ejaculated the doctor, examining and smelling the glass. “She has got at something.”
“But, for pity’s sake, act—act,” said Salis, in horror. “You are letting her sink before your eyes.”
“Best thing too,” said North, laughing. “A miserable little jilt! I—”
He paused in horror at the words which had fallen from his lips, and met his friend’s wondering gaze. Then, as if mastering himself, he gave sundry orders in a quick, sharp way, and evidently bestirred himself to restore the patient.
For the moment Salis had felt disposed to bid him leave the house; but it was a case of emergency, and, keeping a watchful eye upon North, he helped where it was necessary, with the result that an hour later Mary was left seated beside her, Leo being utterly prostrate, and the doctor followed his friend down to the breakfast-room where the meal was spread.
“Hah!” cried North, “that’s better. Breakfast’s a glorious meal. Come, old chap, sit down. Never mind the jade; she’s all right now.”
“In Heaven’s name, North, what does this mean?” cried Salis.
North burst into a hearty laugh, which his wild eyes seemed to contradict.
“Mean, eh?” he cried. “Why, I ought to ask you. What game has the lively little witch been up to now?”
“North!” cried Salis piteously.
“There, you needn’t tell me,” cried North, laughing. “Tom, eh? Ah, he’s a sad dog!”
“North, for pity’s sake, have some decency. I suspected that you had found something out, and I can understand your throwing her over like this.”
“Throw her over?” laughed North.
“Why she threw me over for Tom. She’s a queer one, old chap.”
“Are you a man?” cried Salis fiercely, “that you torture me like this. Can you not see the shame of it—the disgrace to Mary and me? Horace North, I feel as if I were grovelling in the mire, and you, my oldest friend, come and set your heel upon my neck.”
“Eh? Heel? Your neck?”
“Yes; I know that you must have suffered heavily. It has been a terrible affliction to both Mary and me, for we felt with you; but for Heaven’s sake, Horace, don’t rush into this reckless extreme. Man, man, I want your sympathy and help, if ever I did, and you—you are so changed.”
“Yes, yes,” said North, in a hoarse whisper, and with a ghastly look in his eyes. “So changed—so horribly changed.”
“Ah!” cried Salis joyfully; “that’s like your old self again. Why, North, what has come to you?”
“Come to me? You dog! Come to me, eh? Look as if I’d been drinking, do I? Oh, I’m all right enough!”
Salis looked at him aghast once more, just as if he had been indeed drinking; but his friend’s acts belied his words, for he uttered a low groan, laid his arms upon the table and let his head sink down.
There was such desolation in his manner that Salis crossed to him and laid his hand upon his shoulder, when, to his horror, the poor fellow uttered a wild shriek, and started up to dash to the other side of the room.
“Oh, it was you,” said North huskily, as he gazed wildly at his friend, his piteous eyes seeming to ask what he thought of his acts.
“Why, North, old fellow, what is the matter? You can trust me.”
“Matter?” cried North excitedly—“matter? No, no, nothing is the matter. A little out of order. Don’t take any notice of what I say.”
“But I must take notice. Do you suppose I can see my oldest and best friend go on in this mad way?”
“No, no; don’t say that,” cried North, catching him fiercely by the wrist; “not ‘mad way.’ A little eccentric: that’s all. Don’t take any notice.”
“But—”
“No, no; don’t take any notice. Yes, I was upset about her. It was a shock.”
“I knew it was that,” cried Salis; “but, North, my dear fellow, you must master it: we are old friends. I will keep nothing from you. Let us be mutually helpful. Is it nothing to us to have such a horror as this in our midst?”
“It is terrible for you,” said North quietly. “The foolish girl!”
“Hah!” ejaculated Salis, beaming upon him; “that sounds like you.”
“I bear her no malice,” continued North dreamily. “It has all been one bitter mistake.”
“Yes, a bitter, bitter mistake!” assented Salis.
“But it is over now. It was in her delirium that she told me she loved me.”
“Leo told you this?”
“Yes. I ought to have known better. But I am only a weak man, Salis. It is over now.”
“It is for the best, my dear old fellow,” cried Salis warmly. “There, you are yourself again. Now tell me. What had she taken?”
“Some strong narcotic poison. I fancy it was belladonna. Did she use it for her eyes?”
“No. I think not. No,” said Salis thoughtfully. “Nature had not made it necessary for her to try and improve her looks.”
“No,” said North thoughtfully. “Had you quarrelled?”
Salis stood with his brows knit for a few moments, and then he turned sharply upon North.
“Tell me first,” he said, “you surprised my sister with that scoundrel, Candlish?”
North shuddered as he bowed his head.
“And I am right in thinking it was you who half killed him?”
“Yes,” said North; “it was I.”
“I don’t wonder at it,” said Salis quietly. “Now I’ll answer your question. Mary and I hoped we had broken all that affair off between my sister and Candlish; but last night I made a discovery, and we did quarrel.”
“And the weak, foolish girl flew to that narcotic poison to end her trouble,” said North thoughtfully. “Ah, well, you must watch her now. There is no danger. It is past.”
“Thanks to you!”
“Thanks to me? Perhaps so; but don’t send for me again unless it is a case of emergency. There, I must go now.”
He rose painfully, looking wild and haggard; but the next moment his whole appearance changed, and he gave his friend a tremendous back-handed blow in the chest.
“She’ll be all right, old chap, and ready to carry on her games again directly. She’s a lively one, parson; as sprightly a filly as was ever foaled. And you, too—you sham old saint; I can see through you, and Madame Crippleoria upstairs! I—”
He smote himself heavily in the mouth, uttered a low groan, and with a despairing look in his eyes that seemed mingled of horror and fright, he glanced wildly at Salis, and hurried from the place.