Beauchamp; or, The Error.

by G. P. R. James

"I wish he would see his son," said Mrs. Billiter, "but you told him he would be better to-morrow or the next day, and so there is no hope of it; for, unless he is frightened out of his wits, he would fly into a fury at the very name of the thing."

"Well, wait till to-morrow, wait till to-morrow," said Mr. Slattery, "and if I see that it won't hurt him, I will frighten him a bit. I don't see that there is any danger just at present, if he keeps himself quiet; and he must not be irritated on any account. However, if I were you, I would be ready to go to him directly, if he rings his bell; and in the meantime I'll send him the composing draught."

Notwithstanding Mr. Slattery's composing draughts, Mr. Wittingham passed a wretched night. He was feverish, heated, full of dark and horrible fancies, hearing the blood going in his head like a mill, and thinking of every thing that was miserable within the whole range of a not very extensive imagination. He bore it obstinately, however, for some hours, taking the potions by his bedside, within even less than the prescribed intervals, but finding no relief. At length he began to wonder, if people would hear him when he rang. He found himself growing weaker and more weak; and he suffered exceeding pain, till darkness and the torture of his own thoughts became intolerable; and, stretching out his hand, he rang the bell about three o'clock in the morning. The old housekeeper, who had remained dressed close at hand, was in his room in a moment; and Mr. Wittingham felt as much pleased and grateful, as it was in his nature to feel. She did her best to soothe and comfort him; and, just as the light was coming in, the sedative medicines, which he had taken, began to produce some effect; and he fell into a heavy sleep. Nevertheless, when Mr. Slattery visited him, he found no great improvement; but a warm bath produced some relief. The worthy surgeon began to fancy, however, from all the symptoms that he saw, that he was likely to lose a patient of some importance; and he judged that it might be as well to establish a claim upon that patient's successor. He therefore determined to take the advocacy of Harry Wittingham's cause upon himself; and, in order to prepare the way for what he had to say in the evening, he gave the worthy gentleman under his hands a significant hint, that he was in a good deal of danger.

Mr. Wittingham heard the announcement in silence, closed his eyes, compressed his lips, and seemed more terribly affected than the worthy surgeon had at all expected. He therefore judged it best to throw in a little consolation before he proceeded further, and he continued in a soothing and cajoling tone:

"I know you to be a man of strong mind, my dear Sir, and not likely to be depressed at the thought of a little peril. Therefore, if I had thought the case hopeless, I should have told you so at once. It is not so, however, at all; and I only wished to warn you, that there was some danger, in order to show you the necessity of keeping yourself quite quiet and taking great care."

Mr. Wittingham answered not a word; and, after a very unpleasant pause, the surgeon took his leave, promising to come again in the evening.

When he did return, Mr. Slattery found his patient wonderfully composed as he thought. Nevertheless, there was an awkward something about the pulse, a sort of heavy suppressed jar, which did not make him augur very favourably of his prospects. As he sat by the bedside with his fingers upon the wrist and his eyes half shut, as if considering all the slightest indications which might be afforded by that small agitated current that beat and quivered beneath his touch, what was Mr. Slattery reflecting upon? Not Mr. Wittingham's state, except as far as it was to influence his conduct in a non-medical capacity. He said to himself--or thought, which is the same thing, "This old gentleman will go. He has not stamina to struggle with such a disease. As I can do little for the Wittingham present, I way as well do what I can for the Wittingham to come. If I show myself his friend, he may show himself mine; and though perhaps the discussion may make life's feeble tide ebb a little faster, it is not much matter whether it be low water half an hour sooner or later."

Mrs. Billiter, however, did not happen to be in the room at the moment, and Mr. Slattery resolved to have a witness to his benevolent proceedings. He therefore asked numerous questions, and discussed various important points affecting the sick man's health till the good housekeeper appeared. He then gradually led the conversation round to young Harry Wittingham, remarking that he had had a long drive since the morning, and speaking of Buxton's Inn, as one of the places at which he had called.

"By the way, I did not see your son, my dear Sir," he added, "he was out. Indeed he may be considered as quite well now, and only requires care of himself, kind attention from others, and a mind quiet and at ease."

Mr. Wittingham said not a word, and Mr. Slattery mistook his silence entirely. "I now think, my dear Sir," he continued, "that it would be a great comfort to you if you would have him home. Under present circumstances it would be advisable, I think, I do indeed."