“Dum vivimus, speremus,” said he. “Her case need not be hopeless any more than another’s. Much depends upon the energy with which the disease is fought.”
He saw the flash of Holles’s eyes at that, as through the Colonel’s mind sped the vow that if it was a matter of a fight he was there to wage it. He would fight the plague for her as fiercely as he had fought Buckingham. Beholding his sudden transfiguration, the physician, in charity—lest the man should delude himself with false hopes—thought well to add:
“Much depends upon that. But more—indeed all—upon God, my friend.” He spoke to Holles as to a husband, for that, indeed, was the relationship in which he conceived him to stand to the afflicted lady. “If suppuration of that swelling can be induced, recovery is possible. More I cannot say. To induce that suppuration infinite pains and tireless labour may be necessary.”
“She may depend on that,” said Holles.
The physician nodded. “Nurses,” he added slowly, “are scarce and difficult to procure. I will do my best to find you one as soon as possible. Until then you will have to depend entirely upon yourself.”
“I am ready.”
“And in any case the law does not allow you to leave this house until you can receive a certificate of health—which cannot be until one month after her recovery or....” He broke off, leaving the alternative unnamed, and added hurriedly: “That is Sir John Lawrence’s wise provision for checking the spread of the infection.”
“I am aware of it and of my position,” said Holles.
“So much the better, then. And now, my friend, there is no time to lose. Speed in applying remedies is often all. She must be brought as quickly as may be into a free and full perspiration and for that she must be got to bed without delay. If her life is to be saved, you must get to work at once.”
“Tell me but what to do, sir.”