“Longman, run and fetch Dr. Hobbs. Mrs. Campbell and myself will attend to Montgomery.”
The hunter fled out of the front door to fetch the physician, while Mr. and Mrs. Campbell rushed to the help of the sufferer.
It was an appalling spectacle!
The blood driven by the freezing cold to the lungs had congested there, and notwithstanding all the means that had been taken to restore his consciousness and save his life, though these means had been thus far successful, yet the congestion of the lungs had increased until it burst an artery and the hemorrhage followed. It was not fatal all at once, for Mr. and Mrs. Campbell called all their skill and experience into service and succeeded in stopping the flow before the arrival of the doctor.
When the latter came to the bedside of the patient he found him laid back on his bed, as pale as death, as weak as a new-born infant, and scarcely breathing, his pulse scarcely beating.
Dr. Hobbs approved all the rector had done, and then inquired:
“Did you get an answer from Sir Ichabod Ingoldsby?”
“Yes, by telegram. He cannot leave London at this crisis.”
“Well, it does not matter now. This is a case that any country doctor or any old woman might understand and treat.”
“What do you think of his chance of life?” whispered the rector.