“And what would be a favourable symptom?”
“If Mrs. Coverdale should wake free from delirium, so as to be able to recognize those about her, you may reckon that the fever has worn itself out; and the only thing then to dread will be her extreme weakness; in that case every effort must be made to keep her up; give her port wine, or even brandy, a teaspoonful every five minutes if she appears faint; but my friend, Mr. Gouger, is quite aware of the proper measures to be taken—she cannot be in better hands.”
CHAPTER LXI.—ALICE APPOINTS HER SUCCESSOR.
That supposed great arbiter of life and death, the London physician, had departed, leaving at least one aching heart behind him; for Coverdale could not disguise from himself that, although Sir J. C———— had not actually pronounced Alice’s sentence in plain words, his intention had been to prepare him for the worst. In pity to Emily’s youth and warm affection for her sister, he did not acquaint her with the immediate proximity of the crisis on which depended their loved one’s fate and his happiness; nor, not placing any great reliance on Lord Alfred Courtland’s power of keeping a secret, did he enlighten him either; but he made some excuse for detaining him and offering him a bed, so that he might be unable to start on his mission to Hazlehurst Grange until the next morning.
As the evening advanced, Alice, who had been alternately dozing and waking up to bewail herself in wild, incoherent sentences, fell into a deep, heavy sleep.
Dr. Gouger, having yielded to Harry’s earnest request that he would return and sleep at Coverdale Park that night, set out to pay two or three indispensable visits, promising to be back in good time.
About eleven o’clock, Emily used every argument she could think of to try and induce Harry, who had sat up during the last three nights, to allow her to take his place, but in vain; and reading in his pale, anxious countenance that his mind was made up, she contented herself with obtaining his promise that if any change took place, she should be summoned immediately, went to bed, and dreamed that Lord Alfred Courtland was a Persian prince, disguised as a physician, who had brought a talisman to cure Alice, for which he was to be liberally and appropriately rewarded with her (the dreamer’s) own fair hand and the Archbishopric of Canterbury.
Emily had scarcely retired when Dr. Gouger returned. Alice was still rapt in a heavy sleep, from which he gave strict orders she should not be aroused.