The Mynns' Mystery

There was another fierce struggle, but the bandages held firm, and he lay panting for a time.

“Man must joy self sometimes. Ah, there you are, little one. It’s all right – it’s all right.”

His eyes closed, and he lay passive for quite a quarter of an hour, the doctor watching every change, and at last joining his entreaties to those of Mrs Hampton.

“You had better go, Gertrude, my dear. You can do no good. I shall stay here by him – perhaps all night. He’ll be better in the morning.”

“Never better to me,” thought Gertrude, as she looked wistfully in the doctor’s eyes. But she shook her head and intimated that she should stay.

“But it is not a fit scene for you, my child,” whispered Mrs Hampton tenderly.

“I cannot help it, I may be of use. Doctor Lawrence,” she said aloud, piteously, as with a faint hope that she might be deceived, and that she was unjust in attributing the trouble to drink, “are such fits likely to return?”

“Eh? Hum! Well, really, my dear, it all depends upon the patient himself. Ah! here’s Mr Saul.”

“Eh? Saul?” yelled the patient. “Where’s old Saul? More whiskey. Ah, would you!”

He burst out into such a torrent of tall swearing as is said to be peculiar to the mule-drivers of the Far West, and Gertrude shuddered as the hot words came pouring forth.

“That’s right, Mr Saul. Now, Mrs Denton, a wine-glass, and a little cold water, please.”

These were obtained, and as the chink of bottle against glass was heard, the patient shouted aloud, and strained to sit up and reach the glass held out to him, and whose contents he swallowed instantly.

“What’s that?” he shouted; “not whisk – That you, Saul boy. Come here – come – ”

He stopped short, uttered a furious oath, and made a bound to set himself free, but sank back inert and lay staring in a ghastly manner at the ceiling.

The doctor laid his hand upon his patient’s heart, felt his pulse, and then bent down over him anxiously.

“Here,” he said quickly, “where is that prescription, Mr Saul?”

“The prescription, sir? Here,” was the reply; and Saul took it from his breast-pocket.

Doctor Lawrence glanced at it quickly, and seemed satisfied, but turned to his patient again, as if the effects of his dose made him uneasy.

“He’ll be better soon, Gertrude, dear,” whispered Mrs Hampton, as she drew her away to the embayed window, and stood with her half hidden by the curtains, but with Saul Harrington’s eyes watching them keenly. “Don’t be alarmed, my dear, at the violence of the attack.”

“I am not alarmed,” said Gertrude slowly, and in a deep, sad voice, “and I am not deceived, Mrs Hampton.”

“What do you mean, my dear?”

“That I never saw any one behave like that before. Mrs Hampton, dear, I am not the child you think me. Do you suppose I do not know that this is the effect of drink?”

There was a dead silence for a few moments, broken only by the stertorous breathing of the man upon the couch.

“I wished to spare you pain, my poor darling,” said Mrs Hampton affectionately, as she drew the weeping girl to her breast. “But you see now it is impossible for you to wed this man. Gertrude, my child, you must come home with me, and give up all thoughts of poor old Mr Harrington’s wishes. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“And you will not be tempted by the money to sacrifice yourself like this.”

“No,” said Gertrude gently. “No money would tempt me, but it was my poor guardian’s great wish that I should be the wife of the boy he worshipped.”

“But, my – ”

“Hush, Mrs Hampton. He was not always like this, but generous, chivalrous, and true. Mrs Hampton, I can see my duty here. It will be no sacrifice, but a labour of love.”

“What? You will not stay here?”

“Yes, and will be his wife.”

“What? You love him, then?”

“No, I think not yet; but I shall bring him patiently back to that which he was when he used to help my poor guardian – win him back to a truer life.”

“Gertrude?”

“If I can do that, I shall fulfil the wishes of the dead.”

“Rachel, take Miss Gertrude away. Hampton, Mr Saul, I must have more help here,” said the doctor in a low, stern voice, as he bent over the man upon the couch, and then in a hoarse, excited whisper he exclaimed:

“Good God! He’s dying!”

Chapter Fourteen

Doctors Agree

The anxiety was terrible for a short time, during which the sick man seemed to be suffering from acute spasms, which made his limbs contract, and drew the muscles of his features in a way that was painful to behold.

Mr Hampton had started off at once for assistance, and Saul placed himself at Doctor Lawrence’s disposal, holding or supporting the patient as his convulsions took the form of a desire to throw himself upon the floor, or of sinking back off the couch.

“You must have given him too strong a dose, doctor,” said Saul at last, as the sufferer lay ghastly-looking, and, for the moment, still.

His eyes were closed, his teeth set, and his fingers tightly clenched, while the sunken eyes and hollowed cheeks seemed to be those of one suffering from a long and painful illness, and not of a young man but a few hours before in the full tide of health.

“No,” said the doctor thoughtfully, “it was the correct quantity. The only thing I can see is that the chemist must have made some terrible mistake. Ha!” he ejaculated at last, as he sat holding his patient’s hand, “that’s better. The paroxysms of pain have passed away, and – ”

He was speaking too soon, for the sufferer suddenly uttered a wild cry, and began to writhe and struggle upon the couch, groaning and kicking with pain, and apparently unconscious of the fact that Gertrude was kneeling at his side, holding one of his cold, damp hands.

The pain passed off, though, after a time, and, livid-looking, and with eyelids and fingers twitching, he lay once more apparently exhausted, till finally his breathing grew regular and faint in the calm sleep of exhaustion.

About this time the second doctor arrived with Mr Hampton, and the room was cleared for the two medicoes to have their consultation.

The great dining-room looked gloomy in the extreme, lit by a hand-candlestick, which had been brought in from the hall; and its occupants stood listening, Mr Hampton and Saul apart, Mrs Hampton and Gertrude together, waiting eagerly for permission to re-enter the study, where, as Gertrude walked to the dining-room door from time to time, all seemed to be terribly still.

It was when returning agitatedly from one of these visits to the open door that she happened to glance upward to where her old guardian’s portrait hung upon the wall, and it was as if the whole of the feeble light from the candle had become focussed upon the grim features of the stern old man, whose eyes met hers in a questioning manner, and to Gertrude it seemed as if they asked her to do her duty by the erring man.

At last the opening of the study door was heard, followed by hushed voices in the hall, and the local doctor took his departure.