In the early morning there came a sudden alarm. Mr. Browning was ill. A severe attack of pain and breathlessness came on, like in kind to the short attack he had had before, when only Nigel and Dr. Duncan were present, but worse in degree. He had been in danger then, and had rallied quickly. Now there was no real rally; only a slight occasional improvement, followed by a worse relapse.
Dr. Duncan, summoned hastily, could do little, for remedies failed to touch the evil.
"He will not stand this long," Dr. Duncan said in a low voice to Nigel. "Yes—great danger. I doubt if he will last through the day."
The suffering and oppression increased, till it was hard to look on unmoved. Mr. Browning could not lie down, could not endure to be in bed. He sat up in his easy-chair, leaning forward, his face livid, his eyes full of helpless affectionate appeal, which went to their very hearts.
Mrs. Browning, worn out by long previous strain, broke down under the distress of seeing him thus. She had to be taken to another room, and was there tended by Daisy, who at such a time could rise out of her childishness, and be useful. Anice was absent from the sick-room of course; poor weak-natured Anice, always fleeing, unwomanlike, from aught that aroused a feeling of discomfort.
But Fulvia never left Mr. Browning, and he could scarcely endure to have Nigel out of his sight. It fell to those two to watch side by side through many long hours of that trying day—trying to both, but most so to Nigel. For Fulvia was in her element, and Nigel's presence meant rest to her; while the sight of what Mr. Browning had to bear racked Nigel's powers of endurance to the utmost. He did not give in; and Fulvia, herself absolutely unwearied in the necessities of her position and in the comfort of having him there, did not realise the severity of the tax upon one unused to sick-rooms.
About three o'clock in the afternoon Dr. Duncan came in. He said little beyond giving needful directions, and promising to return soon—"in a couple of hours or so." Fulvia thought his look not hopeful.
"Have you seen madre?" she asked.
"Yes; she tried to get up and fainted. I have ordered her to bed. She can do no more."
Soon after, unexpectedly, Mr. Browning dropped asleep, leaning forward on a pillow, his forehead against a chair-back. Fulvia had knelt at his right hand a few minutes earlier, and she remained fixed in that position, not daring to stir. Nigel had taken a seat not a yard distant where he had been off and on through the day. A glance of hope was exchanged between the two, and Fulvia, noting Nigel's wearied look, signed to him to leave the room, but the sign was disregarded. Neither of them stirred.