[CHAPTER IX.]
THE DOCTOR'S VERDICT
It was just about this time that Squire Denison, dining alone, was taken ill at the dinner-table. Very rarely indeed was Ella out at that hour, but it chanced that she had gone to spend a long evening with Lady Cleeve. The Squire's symptoms looked alarming to Aaron Stone and his wife; and the young man, Hubert, went off on horseback to Nullington, to summon Dr. Spreckley.
The Doctor had practised in Nullington all his life. He was a man of sixty now, with a fine florid complexion; he was said to be a lover of good cheer and to have a weakness for the whisky bottle; though nobody ever saw him the worse for what he had taken. He had a cheerful, hearty way with him, that to many people was better than all his physic, seeming to think that most of the ills of life could be laughed away if his patients would only laugh heartily enough. Mr. Denison had great confidence in him; and no wonder, seeing that he had attended him for twenty years. Dr. Spreckley was not merely the Squire's medical attendant, but news-purveyor-in-general to him as well. Now that the Squire got out so little himself and saw so few visitors at the Hall, he looked to Spreckley to keep him au courant with all the gossip anent mutual acquaintances and all the local doings for a dozen miles round; and Spreckley was quite equal to the demands upon him. During the past year or two Mr. Denison had experienced several of the sudden attacks; but none of so violent a nature as was the one this evening. Dr. Spreckley's cheerful face changed when he saw the symptoms, and the look, momentary though it was, was not lost on the sick man.
"Where's Miss Winter?" asked the Doctor, somewhat surprised at her absence.
"Miss Ella's gone to Lady Cleeve's for the evening, sir," answered Mrs. Stone, who was in attendance.
"And a good thing too," put in the Squire, rousing himself. "Look here--I won't have her told I've been ill. Do you hear--all of you? No good to worry the lassie."
Dr. Spreckley administered certain remedies, saw the Squire safely into bed, and stayed with him for a couple of hours afterwards, Aaron supplying him with a small decanter of whisky. The symptoms were already disappearing, and Dr. Spreckley's face was hopeful.
"You'll be all right, Squire, after a good night's rest," said he, with all his hearty cheerfulness. "I'll be over by ten o'clock in the morning."
When Ella returned, as she did at nine o'clock, nothing was told her. "The master felt tired, and so went to bed betimes," was all Mrs. Stone said. And Ella suspected nothing.