“I’ll send for her if it’s anything important,” said Doctor Routh, promptly.
The sick man looked quickly at him. It seemed as though his readiness to send for Katharine implied some doubts as to his patient’s safety.
“I don’t believe I’m going to die,” he said, slowly. “What are my chances, Routh? It’s your duty to tell me, if you know.”
“I don’t know. If I did, I’d tell you. You’re a very sick man—and they’ll all want to see you, of course. I—well, I don’t mean to say anything disagreeable about them. On the contrary—it is natural that they should take an interest—”
“Devilish natural,” answered old Lauderdale, with the noise that represented a laugh. “But I want to see Katharine.”
“Very well. Then see her. But don’t talk too much. That’s one reason why I’m going now. You can’t keep quiet for five minutes while I’m in the room. Good-bye. I’ll be back in the afternoon, sometime. If you feel any worse, send for me. Cheever will come and look at you now and then—he won’t talk, and he’ll call me up at my telephone station, if I’m wanted.”
“Well—if you think it’s touch and go, send for Katharine—I mean Katharine Lauderdale, not Katharine Ralston. If you think I’m all right, then leave her alone. She’s not the kind to come of her own accord.”
“All right.”
Doctor Routh held his old friend’s hand for a moment, and then went away. He exchanged a few words with the nurse, who sat reading in the next room, and then slowly descended the stairs. He was considering and weighing the chances of life and death, and trying to make up his mind as to whether he should send for Robert Lauderdale’s grand-niece or not. It was rather a difficult question to solve, for he knew that if Katharine appeared, the sick man would take her coming for a sign that his condition was desperate, and the impression might do him harm. On the other hand, though he was so strong and believed so firmly that he was to live, there was more than a possibility that he might die that night. With old people, the heart sometimes fails very suddenly. And Routh could not tell but that his patient’s wish to see the girl might proceed from some intention on his part which should produce a permanent effect upon her welfare. It would be very hard on her not to send for her, if her appearance in the sick-room were to be of any advantage to her in future.
It was natural enough that he should ultimately decide the matter in Katharine’s favour, for he liked her and Mrs. Ralston best of all the family, next to old Robert himself. Before he left the house he went into the library, which was on the ground floor, to speak with his assistant, Doctor Cheever, whom he had not yet seen, and who had spent the night in the house. The latter gave him an account of the patient’s condition during the last twelve hours, which recalled at once the discouragement Doctor Routh had at first felt that morning. Once out of the old man’s presence, the personal impression of his strength was less vivid, and the danger seemed to be proportionately magnified, even in the mind of such an experienced physician. Doctor Routh had also more than once experienced the painful consequences of having omitted, out of sheer hopefulness, to warn people of a dying relation’s peril, and he at once decided to go to the Lauderdales himself and tell them what he thought of the case.