“Doctor, you must not let my wife die now, when I am so miraculously restored to her as from the grave. No expense must be spared. Have you had consulting physicians?”
“Two of the best in Baltimore. Everything that is possible has been done. We can only await the issue with hope and prayer. The crisis will almost certainly come to-night.”
“You will let me share the watch by her side?” pleadingly.
“Yes, if the good nurse will consent, though she is very arbitrary. But we cannot afford to go against her wishes. She is from the Baltimore Hospital, and the best nurse procurable.”
He went into the sick room to look at the patient again, and to ask leave for her husband to stay in the room.
“He may try it, but she is very susceptible to the influence of any one who enters the room,” replied the clever nurse, whose patient had again relapsed into seeming stupor.
So by and by Royall went in and sat by the window to watch the night out in mingled hope and fear.
How deathly his wife looked, as if the grim King of Terrors had already claimed her as his own. She lay so still and so seemingly lifeless that it was almost a relief when she began to toss and turn again, and to mutter wild, incoherent words.
When this had gone on some time, the intelligent nurse whispered in his ear:
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Sherwood, but it would almost seem as if your presence had some disturbing influence on her, and not for the best, either. Will you kindly retire a while, and let me see what effect it may have on her restlessness?”