When I told Emma she was a little upset, but being a sensible woman she soon saw the force of my arguments and fell in with the situation. In truth, unselfish creature that she was, she thought more of the advantage that would accrue to me by this formal burying of the hatchet than of her own prejudices or convenience.
The time came and with it Sir John Bell, large, sharp-eyed, and jocose. In due course and under favourable conditions a daughter was born to me, a very beautiful child, fair like her mother, but with my dark eyes.
I think it was on the fourth day from the birth of the child that I went after luncheon to see my wife, who so far had done exceedingly well. I found her depressed, and she complained of headache. Just then the servant arrived saying that I was wanted in the consulting-room, so I kissed Emma and, after arranging her bed-clothing and turning her over so that she might lie more comfortably, I hurried downstairs, telling her that she had better go to sleep.
While I was engaged with my visitor Sir John Bell came to see my wife. Just as the patient had gone and Sir John was descending the stairs a messenger hurried in with a note summoning me instantly to attend upon Lady Colford, the wife of a rich banker and baronet who, I knew, was expecting her first confinement. Seizing my bag I started, and, as I reached the front door, I thought that I heard Sir John, who was now nearly at the foot of the stairs, call out something to me. I answered that I couldn’t stop but would see him later, to which I understood him to reply “All right.”
This was about three o’clock in the afternoon, but so protracted and anxious was the case of Lady Colford that I did not reach home again till eight. Having swallowed a little food, for I was thoroughly exhausted, I went upstairs to see my wife. Entering the room softly I found that she was asleep, and that the nurse also was dozing on the sofa in the dressing-room. Fearing to disturb them, I kissed her lips, and going downstairs returned at once to Sir Thomas Colford’s house, where I spent the entire night in attendance on his wife.
When I came home again about eight o’clock on the following morning it was to find Sir John Bell awaiting me in the consulting-room. A glance at his face told me that there was something dreadfully wrong.
“What is it?” I asked.
“What is it? Why, what I called after you yesterday, only you wouldn’t stop to listen, and I haven’t known where to find you since. It’s puerperal fever, and Heaven knows what gave it to her, for I don’t. I thought so yesterday, and this morning I am sure of it.”
“Puerperal fever,” I muttered, “then I am ruined, whatever happens to Emma.”
“Don’t talk like that, man,” answered Sir John, “she has a capital constitution, and, I daresay, we shall pull her through.”