Dr. Gouger’s answer did not tend greatly to elucidate matters.
“Really, my dear sir, that is a point on which I can give you no advice. In the treatment of all bodily ailments, I, with all due deference to my professional brethren, consider myself as competent as any man; but were I so far to overstep my proper province as to attempt to ‘minister to a mind diseased,’ as our great poet has it, I should be guilty of unpardonable presumption. No, my dear sir, I have given you the suggestion, and must leave it to your sound judgment how far, or in what way, it may be desirable to act upon it.”
Poor Harry! just the very points upon which he felt most incompetent to form an opinion, were those on which he was called upon to decide and act; but Harry had one adviser which never failed him—his own simple, straightforward common sense; and to that, and the so-called chapter of accidents, he resolved to trust.
During the remainder of that day, however, the aforesaid chapter did not afford him the opportunity he sought for. Alice appeared weak and depressed, and more inclined to sleep than to converse. On the following morning, she seemed a degree stronger and less disinclined to exertion. She inquired into the particulars of the steeple-chase, and especially interested herself in all the details relating to the leap at which he met with his accident, and his “pluck” in remounting and winning the race with a broken arm.
After Harry had given a full, true, and particular account of the affair from beginning to end, and his wife had evinced all proper interest and sympathy, a pause ensued in the conversation, which was broken by Alice.
“Emily has been telling me how you would sit up with me, night after night, when you ought to have been lying in bed yourself with your poor arm,” she said; “how kind and good it was of you! I hope you do not suffer very much pain now?”
“Oh, no! it is troublesome at times, but in general it is pretty easy,” was the reply.
After another pause, Alice asked, in a low, trembling voice—
“Did you think I should die, Harry?”
“I was naturally very anxious and unhappy about you,” returned Coverdale, “and—well, since you are getting on so nicely, I will confess that I was terribly frightened about you at one time,—that night on which the crisis took place especially; I never wish to pass such another six hours, I assure you!”