She was looking earnestly into the clear blue eyes of the old man, who turned them kindly upon her, from under his shaggy white eyebrows.
“Oh! thank God, then you do think him better?”
“In that sense, yes,” he answered cautiously, “but, of course, we must have patience, and we shall soon know more, a great deal more, and I do sincerely hope it may all turn out quite right; but the brain has been a good deal overpowered; there’s a tendency to a sort of state we call comatose; it indicates too much pressure there, d’ye see. I’d rather have him talking more nonsense, with less of that sleep, as you suppose it, but it isn’t sleep—a very different sort of thing. I’ve been trying to salivate him, but he’s plaguy obstinate. We’ll try to-night what dividing the pills into four each, and shortening the intervals a little will do; it sometimes does wonders—we’ll see—and a great deal depends on our succeeding in salivating. If we succeeded in effecting that, I think all the rest would proceed satisfactorily, that’s one of our difficulties just at this moment. If you send over your little messenger, the sooner the better, she shall have the pills, and let him take one the moment they come—pretty flower that is,” he interpolated, touching the petal of one that stood neglected, in its pot, on a little table at the window. “That’s not a geranium: it’s a pelargonium. I did not know there were such things down here—and you’ll continue, I told her everything else, and go on just as before.”
“And you think he’s better—I mean just a little?” she pleaded again.
“Well, well, you know, I said all I could, and we must hope—we must hope, you know, that everything may go on satisfactorily, and I’ll go further. I’ll say I don’t see at all why we should despair of such a result. Keep up your spirits, ma’am, and be cheery. We’ll do our duty all, and leave the rest in the hands of God.”
“And I suppose, Dr. Willett, we shall see you to-morrow at the usual hour?”
“Certainly, ma’am, and I don’t think there will be any change to speak of till, probably, Thursday.”
And her heart sank down with one dreadful dive at mention of that day of trial that might so easily be a day of doom.
And she answered his farewell, and smiled faintly, and followed his steps through the passage, freezing with that fear, it seemed, that she did not breathe, and that her heart ceased beating, and that she glided like a spirit. She stopped, and he passed into the yard to his horse, turning his shrewd, pale face, with a smile and a nod, as he stepped across the door-stone, and he said—
“Good-bye, ma’am, and look out for me to-morrow as usual, and be cheery, mind. Look at the bright side, you know; there’s no reason you shouldn’t.”