“I am very weak, Harry, love,” she said; then, with an effort at recollection, she added: “Where am I?—here, at home? Have I been ill long?”
“You have been very ill, my own darling; but you will soon get well now. Don’t try to talk, or think about it yet. I will fetch you a soothing draught, and then you must endeavour to go to sleep again.”
Fearful of over-exciting her, he rose to call the nurse. As he turned to leave her for this purpose, Alice again stretched out her hand to detain him.
“Harry, love, do not go away, please. I will do everything you tell me, but I shall die if I lose you again.”
Harry stooped, and kissed her pale, thin cheek.
“I am only going to call the nurse,” he said. “I will never leave you any more, dearest!”
Alice faintly endeavoured to return his caress, and sank back exhausted on her pillow.
Harry roused the still sleeping nurse, and dispatched her to summon Dr. Gouger. Then returning to his wife’s bedside, he took her thin hand in his; and as his affectionate pressure was feebly returned, the hope that Alice might be restored to him a hope which that night of anxious watching had nearly destroyed—began once more to reanimate him.
Dr. Gouger, accustomed to be called up at all hours of the night, made his appearance in an incredibly short space of time. As he approached the bed, Alice perceived him, and smiled faintly in token of recognition—a favourable symptom, at which the doctor nodded approval. Having made a careful examination of the patient, he prepared a draught, which he gave her. Then saying, “Now try and go to sleep, my dear madam, and I trust to find you much refreshed to-morrow morning,” he turned to leave the room.
Harry followed him to the door.