Doctor Luttrell's First Patient

by Rosa Nouchette Carey

He was some time with him, and then he came down and told Olivia that she had better fill a hot-water bottle and heat some flannel.

"It is a sort of nervous attack," he explained, "and his teeth are chattering with cold, and he is shaking as though he were in an ague fit; but I am going to mix him a composing draught, and he will soon quiet down. I have brought him a favourable report of Mr. Gaythorne, but he is too weak to be cheered by it. This will have done him no end of harm. We shall have him in bed for the next day or two."

Olivia gave a tired sigh, but she would not add to Marcus's burdens by selfish complaints of her own fatigue. She would have taken the eider-down off her own bed, but Marcus preferred borrowing a couple of blankets from Mrs. Crampton. In a few minutes he returned again laden with warm things that the housekeeper had sent for her young master's use, and, soothed by the unaccustomed comfort and the powerful narcotic, Alwyn sank into an exhausted sleep.

It was eleven o'clock before Olivia could lay her own head on her pillow. As Dot nestled to her with a sleepy cry, the young mother breathed her nightly thanksgiving for her two blessings, and then knew no more until Martha came to pull up her blinds in the morning.

When Marcus came across for his breakfast he seemed in excellent spirits. He had had three or four hours' rest, and, in his opinion, the stroke was a slight one. Mr. Gaythorne had regained consciousness, and, though the right arm and his speech were certainly affected, he believed that it was only temporary mischief.

"Of course one knows at his age that it is the danger signal," he went on, "but I hope with care that his life may be prolonged for years. I shall get Dr. Bevan to look at him, as I do not care for such undivided responsibility. And perhaps it will be well to have a nurse for a week or two. Mrs. Crampton is not as young as she was, and it is a pity to knock her up."

As the day wore on there were still more cheering reports. Mr. Gaythorne had said a few words almost distinctly—at least, Dr. Luttrell had understood him.

"Where is Alwyn?" He was quite sure those were his words; but he had seemed quite satisfied when Marcus told him he was with his wife, and had not spoken again.

Olivia had hoped for a talk with Aunt Madge, for it was quite three days since she had been round to Mayfield Villas; but she found it impossible to leave the house. Alwyn needed a great deal of attention; he was very low and depressed.

Marcus had given orders that he was to have frequent nourishment, and as Mrs. Crampton had sent Phoebe across with a store of good things—soup and jelly and grapes—there were no demands on Olivia's simple larder. A ready-cooked pheasant would be sent for his dinner, and anything else that he could fancy.