“Oh! sir, cannot you come, cannot you save her?” exclaimed Paul, not understanding what the doctor had said, but only making out that he was unable to accompany him back.
“Yes, yes, my friend,” answered the doctor, touched by the old soldier’s earnestness, “To-morrow I’ll start. I must go in a post-chaise, I cannot ride express as you do. Now go down, and my man Mumford will attend to your wants while your horse is fed. In the meantime, I will look out the medicines, and write a letter to my good friend Dr Jessop. Will that satisfy you? Now do go, my good man, do go.”
Paul could with difficulty get down any food, but at the same time his experience told him that when work was to be done the body must be fed.
He thought the doctor was a long time in concocting the medicine, but hoped that it would be more efficacious in consequence.
When once mounted, with the medicine in a case slung at his back, he did not spare his speed. His only fear was falling. A horse had been sent on to Winchester to meet him. He exchanged it for his tired steed. Winchester was soon passed through and Southampton reached. Shortly after leaving the latter place, he encountered Harry Tryon, with a led horse, coming to meet him. He mounted it gladly, for his own was already tired, and together they galloped back through the forest.
Harry was afraid that Miss Lucy was worse. At all events, they were anxiously looking out for the doctor or his remedies. The Colonel met them at the hall-door steps. His face was very grave and anxious. He was disappointed at not seeing the doctor, but eagerly took the case of medicines.
“Paul, you saved my life once, and by God’s providence you may be the means of paving my daughter’s. His will be done, whatever happens.”
Dr Jessop was in attendance. The remedies sent by the London doctor were administered, but Lucy was very weak. Harry asked Dr Jessop what he thought.
“My boy, doctors at all times must not express their thoughts,” he answered, evasively. “Miss Everard is young, and youth is a great thing in a patient’s favour. Remember that, and make a good use of yours while you enjoy it.”
The guests with sad hearts took their departure. The long-expected ball was not to be. Messages were sent round to the residents in the neighbourhood, informing them that the ball was put off, but in the evening several who had not heard of what had occurred arrived at the door. The Colonel went down to speak to them himself. It was with difficulty he could command his voice, for he saw, with the eye of affection, that his beloved daughter was struck by the hand of death. Among others, a party of foreign officers arrived from a neighbouring town. Captain Everard begged his uncle that he might be allowed to go and speak to them. Refreshments had been placed for those who might come from a distance, and they were accordingly invited in. They were gentlemanly men, and Captain Everard received them as a man of the world. Having mentioned the serious illness of Miss Everard, he at once turned the conversation to other subjects. Among the guests, he saw one whose face was familiar; he looked at him again and again, and was trying to consider where he had seen him. The officer at length became aware that Captain Everard’s eyes were fixed on him.