Our antiquary had hardly finished reading the letter, and thrust it into his pocket, when Dr. Bleedem re-entered the room with a very serious expression on his face.
"Well, doctor," said Mr. Oldstone cheerily, not noticing his countenance, "What news?"
"Bad, bad, very bad indeed," replied the leech gravely. "She is in a high fever and delirious. Quite off her head. If I ever get her through this——"
"Good heavens! doctor," ejaculated Oldstone, "you don't mean to say that there is any actual danger of her life?"
"Very considerable danger, I am afraid," responded the physician. "She will require the most careful nursing, such as I am afraid she is not likely to get even from her own mother."
"Doctor, you frighten me," cried Oldstone. "Surely someone can be found to attend upon her to relieve her mother."
"They are a rough lot about here, and not always dependable," answered Bleedem. "It must be someone who will remain with her all night long without going to sleep. If she ever should get over it——"
"Nonsense! doctor. She must get over it, if I myself have to sit up to attend upon her."
"Well, well, we must see how we can manage; but it is a very bad case, for besides the chill she caught, which was of itself enough, there was, in addition, the mental shock to the nervous system. She is so delicately organised."
"Poor dear! poor dear!" whimpered Oldstone. "If she dies under your treatment, doctor, I shall never——"