“No,” he said; “but I want to go home. I should have taken a fly at Wil’sbro’. Cranky will see to me without bothering anybody else. If you would send for one—”
“I don’t think I can till I know whether you are fit to move,” said Rosamond. “I desired Dilemma to tell them to send Dr. Worth here when he comes to Terry. Besides, is it quite right to carry this into another place?”
“I never thought of that,” said Herbert. “But they would shut me up; nobody come near me but Cranky.” But there a shivering fit caught him, so that the sofa shook with him, and Rosamond covered him with rugs, and again told him bed was the only place for him, and he consented at last, holding his head as he rose, dizzy with the ache.
“Look here, Lady Rose,” he said, falling back into a sitting posture at the first attempt, “where’s my writing-case? If I go off my head, will you give this to the Rector, and ask him if it will be any good in the matter he knows of?” and he handed her an envelope. “And this keep,” he added, giving her one addressed to his father. “Don’t let him have it till it’s all over. You know.” Then he took up a pen and a sheet of paper, and got as far, with a shaking hand, as ‘Dear Crank—’ but there he broke down, and laid his head on the table, groaning.
“I’ll do it. What shall I say, dear Herbert?”
“Only tell her to come to me,” he gasped. “Cranstoun—our old nurse. Then I’ll be no trouble.”
While Mr. Bindon helped Herbert into his room, Rosamond sped home to send for Mrs. Cranstoun, arrange for the care of the new patient in the intervening hours, and fetch some of those alleviations of which experience had taught the use. Mr. Bindon came to meet her on her return, carefully shutting the door, and saying, “Lady Rosamond, can he be delirious already? He is talking of being plucked for his Ordination.”
“Too true,” said Rosamond. “I thought it a great shame to be so hard on a man with that in him; but I believe you expected it?”
“No; I may have said he would fail, but I never expected it.”
“Fail, indeed! Fancy a man being turned back who has worked night and day—night and day—doing all the very hardest services—never resting! Very likely killing himself!” cried Rosamond hotly. “May I come back to him? Terry can spare me, and if you will go to Wil’sbro’ I’ll stay till my husband comes, or the doctor. The Sisters will tell you what to do.”