'And you have not slept well, and your limbs ache as though you were tired and bruised, and your thoughts get a little confused and troublesome towards evening.'
'They are always that,' she returned, heavily; but she did not refuse to answer the few professional questions that Dr. Heriot put. His grave manner, and the thoughtful way in which he watched Olive, caused Mildred some secret uneasiness; it struck her that the girl was a little incoherent in her talk.
'Well—well,' he said, cheerfully, laying down the hand, 'you must give up the fruitless struggle and submit to be nursed well again. Get her to bed, Miss Lambert, and keep her and the room as cool as possible. She will remain here, I suppose,' he continued abruptly, and as Mildred assented, he seemed relieved. 'I will send her some medicine at once. I shall see you downstairs presently,' he finished pointedly; and Mildred, who understood him, returned in the affirmative. She was longing to have Dr. Heriot's opinion; but she was too good a nurse not to make the patient her first consideration. Supper was over by the time the draught was administered, and Olive left fairly comfortable with Nan within earshot. The girls had already retired to their rooms, and Dr. Heriot was evidently waiting for Mildred, for he seemed absent and slightly inattentive to the vicar's discourse. Richard, who was at work over some of his father's papers, made no attempt to join in the conversation.
Mr. Lambert interrupted himself on Mildred's entrance.
'By the bye, Milly, have you spoken to Heriot about Olive?'
'Yes, I have seen her, Mr. Lambert; her aunt was right; the girl is very far from well.'
'Nothing serious, I hope,' ejaculated the vicar, while Richard looked up quickly from his writing. Dr. Heriot looked a little embarrassed.
'I shall judge better to-morrow; the symptoms will be more decided; but I am afraid—that is, I am nearly certain—that it is a touch of typhoid fever.'
The stifled exclamation came not from the vicar, but from the farthest corner of the room. Mr. Lambert merely turned a little paler, and clasped his hands.
'God forbid, Heriot! That poor child!'