Dr. Bourne, her medical attendant, had been unremitting in his attention; but he confessed himself quite unable to define the nature of the complaint—it appeared to him to be more mental than physical, and for that reason it was beyond the reach of medicaments.
He did his best, however, but failed to arrest the decay which was so silently and secretly taking place.
The door of the room was gently opened, and Doctor Bourne entered in company with the nurse.
He looked at his patient, felt her pulse, watched the expression of her countenance for some little time, and then shook his head.
“Worse!” whispered the parson.
“Weaker, decidedly weaker; you must give her as much nourishment as possible.”
He went to a side table and wrote a precription, then he left.
The nurse went down-stairs to show the doctor out. Mr. Ashbrook left the sick chamber and met her upon her return.
“What does he say about his patient?” he enquired anxiously; “anything else?”
“She is weaker, and requires careful watching and the utmost care,” returned the nurse.