“The sickness then must be rather sudden. But madam, it is rather a flimsy trick to rid yourself of your husband’s presence. I advise you, however, to take matters more coolly. By this time you ought to understand and to know who will come out victor.”
And Alice did know who came out victor in this instance. But the morning dawned upon a fever-flushed face, and ere the sun was many hours in the heavens a doctor stood at the bedside of the little wife, who gravely shook his head as he listened to the ravings of his patient, which—if such utterances can be relied upon—revealed a tale of woe to the attendants that ought to fill the heart of every true woman and man with horror.
The hours passed into days and the days into weeks, and yet the fever raged unabated. Imelda, who passed the days and nights in sleepless anxiety at the sick woman’s bedside was well nigh worn out, even though an experienced nurse was there to share the responsibilities and care. The little ones were banished to another portion of the house, so that their childish prattle and laughter might not disturb the sick mother. Lawrence Westcot came and went to and from the sick chamber, wearing a gloomy countenance, but his presence there was not at all helpful, as it invariable caused the patient to be very uneasy and restless, even though he did not come within the range of her vision. She seemed to feel his presence and the physician fearing the effect upon her nervous system advised the husband to make his visits short. Sometimes he bent above her, laying his hand upon her fevered brow. Unconscious though she was she would with a quick nervous movement throw his hand aside, muttering incoherent words.
Both Imelda and the nurse observed that invariably the sick woman would be worse after those visits of the husband; although of short duration they were glad when they were over.
Almost three weeks passed ere the much-feared crisis came. By this time the patient was very weak and it was apparent that life hung by a thread. Anxiously bending over the couch the two friends watched while the clock ticked the hours away. Slowly they crept on; slowly, softly, almost imperceptibly the life of the sufferer seemed to ebb away.
Twelve, one, two o’clock, and still no change. Half past two, the door of the room softly opened and Lawrence Westcot entered. Imelda’s heart gave a bound. Why must he come at such a time? Stepping softly he drew near. Imelda placed her finger upon her lips in token of caution. Coming close to the side of the dying woman he stood gazing down upon her. What his thoughts might be could not be known from the calm, unmoved appearance of his countenance, but certainly they were not pleasant thoughts. How could they be, when he so well knew what had brought his wife so close to death’s door? If she should die, would not her death lie at his door? Would he not be compelled to own himself her murderer?
Five, ten minutes passed, then Alice moved. Imelda laid her hand upon his arm and bent a pleading look upon him. Immediately he stepped back into the shadows of the room and there waited the issue. Restlessly the head moved upon the pillow. The eyelids quivered and fluttered open, the lips moved, Imelda bent to catch the low whisper that was merely a breath.
“Water!” came faint, scarcely audible, from the fever-parched lips. With a teaspoon a few drops at a time were administered, the patient apparently gaining strength from the cooling liquid. The blue eyes opened wide, but they were clear with the light of reason. Presently they closed again, and soon a slow, even breathing told that sleep, natural restful sleep, had once more come to the sufferer’s relief. The nurse bent above her and listened, laying her fingers upon the fluttering pulse. Presently, standing erect, she whispered:
“She is safe for tonight. I will continue the watch. Miss Ellwood, you had better retire and rest.”
Imelda’s breast was heaving. The strain had been a severe one, and feeling that it would be impossible long to control herself she hastily left the room, followed by Westcot. Just outside the door he laid his hand upon her arm.