The Major groaned.

"If he dies it will kill her."

"He shall not die if medical knowledge can save him," said the Doctor firmly.

"And you will stay, sir?"

"Stay? Great heavens, man, his father and I were school-fellows. His mother was like a dear sister to me; and as for this boy, I could not have thought more of him if he had been my own son. Stay? I sent a message back from the station to say that the date of my return was indefinite, and to place an old friend in charge of my practice. I presume that you will find me an easy-chair and a crust of bread while I am here, and I shall not go till I feel that I can leave him safely to his nurse, or it has pleased G.o.d to take him into His rest."

The Major's breast heaved, and he held out his hand, which was firmly grasped.

"G.o.d bless you for those words," he said, with emotion. "We must save him for her sake."

Doctor Praed's forehead grew more wrinkled day by day; and there was a hard, stern look in his eyes as the time slowly glided on, and the fever fought stoutly against all the medical skill which could be brought to bear.

And all the time he was haunted by the piteous, almost upbraiding, look of Dinah, which wistfully followed every movement, paining the old man so that at last he avoided it when he spoke to her; and in his ignorance inflicted stab after stab.

"It is the great trouble which is killing him. I never could have thought that he would care so much for money, my child. But I suppose he felt that his honour was at stake after all that he said to his friends who took shares in the mine. I wish you were not here."

"Why, Doctor Praed?" said Dinah faintly, as she recalled her last parting from Clive, and thought how little the visitor knew.

"Because I should like to let my tongue run loose and say all manner of evil things concerning that wretched mine. But I suppose I must not."

Dinah rose and laid her hand upon his arm.

"You do not talk to me about Clive," she whispered. "You cannot think of the agony I suffer."

"I do not speak because to one like you it would be cruel to talk in the slow, hopeful twaddle used by some of my weak brethren. My dear child, there is nothing to say. His life is not in my hands. We can only wait."

"But, Doctor, think, for pity's sake, think--is there nothing that can be done? It is maddening to stand here helpless and see him gliding slowly away from us. For he is weaker. I did hope that the quiet which has come over him was a change for the better. I know now that it is all increasing weakness."

"May I come in?" said the Major at the door.

The Doctor hurriedly moved to him, glad of an excuse to escape from those pleading eyes, and followed the Major into the adjoining room.

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN.

THE TURNING-POINT.

"There is a messenger from the mine," the Major whispered.

"Don't talk of it," said the Doctor angrily. "Who is down there now?"

"Mr Jessop Reed and that Mr Wrigley. They are trying everything to discover a continuation of the lost lode."

"Bah! let them. Well, what do they want? Do they expect me to operate on the vein and make it bleed again?"

"No, no. There is a man there, one Sturgess, the foreman, grievously ill, and this Mr Wrigley, knowing that you are here, has sent their clerk Robson over with a message begging you to see him."

"I? No: impossible. Let him see the local man. I am engaged solely to watch my old friend's son."

This was said so decisively that the Major walked away, but stopped by the door and returned.

"I don't like this man, Doctor," he said; "he once insulted my child."

"What? insulted Dinah--the girl my poor boy worshipped!" cried the Doctor angrily; "then let him die."

He added something respecting Michael Sturgess's future, as he angrily turned away.

"Think again, Doctor," said the Major. "They say the man is in a dangerous state. He has been bad for some time. It was from a fall, I believe, down one of the shafts."

"That mine again. Why, Major Gurdon, it has been a curse to every one who has had dealings with it. Well, it's of no use to profess to be a Christian if one does not act up to it. I'll just go in and see how Clive seems, and whether he can be left."

"And then you will go?"

"Oh yes, I suppose I must. That's the worst of being a Christian. One cannot hate or curse a man conscientiously. Yes; I'll go and see the fellow, and I hope I shall not be tempted to give him too strong a dose."

He went into the next room, bent over Clive for a few minutes, and rose as if satisfied.

"You will not leave him," he said.

"You think there is fresh danger?"

"No, my child, the danger has always been great enough. They want me to go and see a man at the mine--one Sturgess."

Dinah started and shuddered. The Doctor noticed it, and thought of her father's words.

"You would rather I did not go."

"I don't like you leaving me, but if it is urgent--"

"They fear the man is dying."

"As we forgive them that trespa.s.s against us," rose to Dinah's brain.

"Yes, Doctor, you must go," she said softly; and he nodded his head.

"Good girl," he said, and he left her.--"Ah, Janet, my child, why were you not like that? My training, I suppose.--Now, sir, I am ready."

Robson started from his seat in the porch, and led the way toward the mine, relating all he knew of the case to the Doctor as they went.

"He was alone in the mine one morning, sir, and had a nasty fall. He injured his shoulder a good deal, and refused to have any medical advice till it had all gone bad. He said the doctors were fools, and that a bandage and cold water were all that was necessary."

"And found out that some one was a bigger fool than the doctors, eh?"

said the old man drily.

"Yes, sir, I suppose so," replied the clerk, smiling. "This way, please."

He led the Doctor down to the little house apportioned to the foreman; and as they approached it, Jessop and Wrigley came out, the former, who looked haggard and careworn, seeming disposed to hurry away, but he mastered his shrinking and stood firm.

"How do?" said the Doctor, with a short nod. "Janet quite well?"