Naomi Raleigh would have helped had there been room, but there was none, and she could only sit with starting eyes watching the efforts that were made, while Prayle tried hard with the oar to hasten the progress of the boat.

There was no sign of life in the figure that lay there inert and motionless; but no heed was paid to that. Animated by the doctor's example, aunt and niece laboured on in silence, while the boat rocked from their efforts, and the water that had streamed from the garments of the doctor and his patient washed to and fro.

It was a strange freight for a pleasure-boat as it floated swiftly down with the stream, pa.s.sing no one on that solitary portion of the river; though had they encountered scores no further help could have been rendered than that which friend was giving to friend.

For the doctor's face was purple with his exertions, and the great drops of perspiration stood now side by side with the water that still trickled from his crisp hair.

"Don't slacken," he cried cheerily. "I've brought fellows to, after being four or five times as long under water, in the depth of winter too. We shall have a flicker of life before long, I'll be sworn. Is he still as cold? I can't stop to feel."

Aunt Sophia laid her hand upon the bare white chest of her nephew in the region of his heart; and then, as her eyes met the doctor's her lips tightened just a little--that was all.

"Too soon to expect it yet.--Don't be despondent, Lady Scarlett. Be a brave, true little wife. That's right." He nodded at her so encouragingly, that, in the face of what he was doing, Lady Scarlett felt that all little distance between them was for ever at an end, and that she had a sister's love for this gallant, earnest man.

"Where are we?" he said at last, toiling more slowly now, from sheer exhaustion.

"Very nearly down to the cottage," replied Prayle; and the doctor muttered an inaudible "Thank G.o.d!" It was not loud enough for wife or aunt to hear, or it would have carried with it a despair far greater than that they felt.

"Can you run her into the landing-place?"

"I'll try," said Prayle, but in so doubting a tone, that the doctor uttered a low e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n, full of impatient anger, and Kate Scarlett looked up.

"Naomi! Quick! Here!" she cried. "Kneel down, and take my place."

"Yes; warmth is life," panted the doctor, who was hoa.r.s.e now and faint.

"Poor woman! she's f.a.gged," he thought; "but still she is his wife."

There was a feeling of annoyance in his breast as he thought this--a sensation of anger against Kate Scarlett, who ought to have died at her post, he felt, sooner than give it up to another. Put the next moment he gave a sigh of satisfaction and relief, as he saw her rise and stop lightly to where Prayle was fumbling with the oar.

"Sit down!" she said in a quick, imperious manner; and, slipping the oar over the stern, she cleverly sculled with it, as her husband had taught her in happier times, so that she sent the gig nearer and nearer to the sh.o.r.e. But in spite of her efforts, they would have been swept beyond, had not the old gardener, waiting their return, waded in to get hold of the bows of the gig and haul it to the side. As it grated against the landing-stage, the doctor summoned all the strength that he had left, to bend down, lift his friend over his shoulder, and then stagger to the house.

Volume 1, Chapter XII.

A HARD NIGHT'S WORK.

"Yes," said Scales excitedly, as he bent over his patient, whom he had placed upon the floor of the study, after ordering fresh medical help to be fetched at once--"yes--there is hope."

As he spoke, Kate Scarlett uttered a low wail, and Aunt Sophia caught her in her arms; but the stricken wife struggled to get free. "No, no; I shall not give way," she panted; "I will be brave, and help." For, as the doctor slowly continued his efforts to restore the circulation, there came at last a faint gasp; and soon after, the medical man from the village came in, cool and calm, to take in the situation at a glance.

By this time, Scarlett was breathing with some approach to the normal strength, and Scales turned to the new-comer. "Will you"--he began. He could say no more, from utter exhaustion and excitement, but sank over sidewise, fainting dead away, leaving the new-comer to complete his task.

It was not a long one now, for almost together James Scarlett and his friend opened their eyes and gazed about wildly.

The doctor was the first to recover himself, and he drank eagerly of the spirit and water held to his lips, and then rose and walked to the open window.

"I'm better now," he said, returning to where his fellow professional was leaning over Scarlett, to whose wandering eyes the light of reason had not yet returned. "How is he now?"

"Coming round fast," said the other.

"He's dying?" moaned Lady Scarlett, as she saw her husband's eyes slowly close once more.

"No, no," said Scales quietly. "It is exhaustion and sleep. He'll go off soundly now for many hours, and wake up nearly well."

"Are you saying this to deceive me?" cried Lady Scarlett.

"Indeed, no; ask our friend here."

Lady Scarlett looked at the other appealingly, and he confirmed his confrere's words. But still she was not convinced, so pale and motionless Sir James lay, till the doctor signed to her to bend over and place her ear against her husband's breast.

Then, as she heard the regular heavy pulsation of his heart, she uttered a low, sobbing, hysterical cry, turned to Scales, caught his hand in hers, kissed it again and again, and then crouched lower upon her knees at her husband's side, weeping and praying during his heavy sleep.

The local doctor stayed for a couple of hours, and then, after a short consultation with Scales, shook hands. "You have done wonders," he said on leaving.

"No," said Scales quietly; "I only persevered."

He found Aunt Sophia kneeling by Lady Scarlett's side, pressing her to rise and partake of some tea which the old lady had ready for her, but only to obtain negative motions of the suffering little woman's head, till Scales bent down and whispered--

"Yes, you must take it, Lady Scarlett; you will want all your strength perhaps when your husband wakes."

His voice roused her and she rose at once, caught his hand in hers and kissed it again before going to a side-table and eating and drinking whatever Aunt Sophia placed in her hands.

"She'd make a splendid nurse," said the doctor to himself, "so obedient and patient. I didn't think she had it in her, but somehow I don't quite like her and her ways."

Just then he turned and met Prayle's eyes fixed upon him rather curiously, and it seemed to him, in his own rather excited state, that his friend's cousin was watching him in no very amiable way.

The thought pa.s.sed off on the moment and he went down on one knee by Scarlett's extemporised couch. For by this time the patient had been made comfortable where he lay with blankets and cushions. The doctor too had found time to change, and had prescribed for himself what he told Aunt Sophia was the tip-top of recuperators in such a case, a strong cup of tea with a tablespoonful of brandy.

"Poor old boy!" he said tenderly, as he laid his hand upon Scarlett's breast. "Yes, your old heart's doing its duty once again, and, and-- confound it! what a weak fool I am."

He remained very still for some minutes, so that no one should see the big hot tears that dropped in a most unprofessional fashion upon the blankets and glistened there. But it was a failure as far as one person was concerned, and he might just as well have taken out his handkerchief, wiped his eyes, and had one of those good sonorous blows of the nose indulged in by Englishmen when they feel affected; for under the most painful circ.u.mstances, however natural, it is of course exceedingly unmanly of the first made human being to cry. That luxury and relief of an overladen spirit is reserved for the Eves of creation.

All the same though, there are few men who do not weep in times of intense mental agony. They almost invariably, however, and by long practice and custom, the result probably of a.s.sistance in accordance with Darwinian laws, contrive to switch the lines or rather ducts of their tears, shunt these saline globules of bitterness, and cry through the nose.

"There! he's going on capitally now," he said, after a time.--"Mr Prayle, you need not, stay."

"Oh, I would rather wait," said Prayle. "He may have a relapse."

"Oh, I shall be with him," said the doctor confidently. "I will ask you to leave us now, Mr Prayle. I want to keep the room quiet and cool."

Arthur Prayle was disposed to resist; but a doctor is an autocrat in a sick-chamber, whom no one but a patient dare disobey; and the result was that Prayle unwillingly left the room.

"Got rid of him," muttered the doctor.--"Now for the old maid," who, by the way, has behaved like a trump.

"I don't think you need stay, Miss Raleigh," he whispered. "You must be very tired now."

"Yes, Doctor Scales," she said quietly; "but I will not go to bed. You may want a little help in the night."

"I shall not leave my husband's side," said Lady Scarlett firmly.--"Oh, Doctor Scales, pray, pray, tell me the truth; keep nothing back. Is there any danger?"

"Upon my word, as a man, Lady Scarlett, there is none."