Roger Ingleton, Minor Part 20

CHAPTER NINE.

THE CAPTAIN RELIEVES GUARD.

When Mr Armstrong, having with some difficulty taken in who and where he was, proceeded, as was natural under the circ.u.mstances, to feel for his eye-gla.s.s, he discovered that his right arm hung powerless at his side, and refused to perform its familiar functions. The next thing he was aware of was that Rosalind and the doctor were kneeling on the rocks beside the senseless form of Roger, who lay, white as a corpse, with the blood trickling from a gash on the temple. Then Jill crept beside him, pale and sobbing, and said something, he did not hear what. Finally the ruddy countenance of Tom dawned upon him, and made him aware, even in the midst of his dream, that one person at least had thoroughly enjoyed the day's adventures, and was no whit the worse either for the fright or the drenching.

How they all got up to Maxfield the tutor was never able to say, for the pain of his broken arm became so intense that he was as near swooning as he had ever been in his life, and but for the timely services of the doctor, who was able to give him some little relief, he might have disgraced himself for ever by fainting light off. He remembered seeing Roger lying in the carriage with eyes half open, his head on Rosalind's shoulder. And he remembered feeling his own hand held fast in the two hands of his little champion.

The next thing he was conscious of was that he was in his own bed, with his arm firmly bound beside him, and the friendly face of Dr Brandram bent over him.

"That's better, isn't it, old fellow?" said the latter. "It's a wonder it was only the arm. You must keep quiet now, for you s.h.i.+pped a lot of water, and were a quarter drowned into the bargain."

"What about Roger?"

"He'll do now--at least I hope so. I was concerned about him at first, but he came round. I envy you your plunge. Just my luck! All the big things are done by the other fellows, and I'm left to hold on to the rope and order the physic. Never mind. I never expected to see either of you out of that caldron. I certainly could never have come out myself."

"Miss Oliphant--is she all right?"

"Right as a trivet; and has mounted guard over her cousin already. If he doesn't get well with her for nurse, he's an obstinate, customer."

"Thanks, Brandram. Come again soon."

Captain Oliphant's concern at this untoward misadventure may well be imagined. He shed tears with the mother over their "dear one's" narrow escape, and censured in terms of righteous indignation all who had been parties to the hazardous expedition.

He cross-examined the doctor as to the dangers to be apprehended from the patient's present condition, and shook his head gloomily at the probable consequences of so terrible a shock to his already fragile const.i.tution. He summoned his three children into his presence to be severally kissed in recognition of their deliverance, and sent a message by Raffles to Mr Armstrong to say that he was glad to hear his injuries were only of a slight nature, and trusted he would take what time was necessary from his duties to make a proper recovery. After which, in a pa.s.sably good-humour, he returned to his room, and wondered what improvements he should make at Maxfield if, by any melancholy dispensation of Providence, the property should fall into his unworthy hands.

Of course there were the usual thorns among the roses. Mrs Ingleton, ill herself, was far too painfully absorbed in her boy's danger to lend an ear to the tender nothings of her sympathetic kinsman. And the whole party were so possessed with the notion that Mr Armstrong was something of a hero, that any suggestion to the contrary was just then clearly inopportune.

The main fact, however, was that Roger Ingleton, Minor--dear lad--was very ill indeed.

"I trust, doctor," said the captain, about a fortnight after the accident, to Dr Brandram, who was quitting the house with a decidedly long face, "I trust our dear young patient is on a good road now to recovery."

"I don't like the look of him, I must confess," replied the doctor; "but, with perfect quiet and nothing to excite him, he will pull round.

The one thing to be dreaded is excitement. The lungs we have got well in hand, but that blow on his temple makes an ugly complication."

"Poor fellow. Is there nothing one can do?"

"Let him alone, with your sweet daughter to nurse him. She is an angel, Captain Oliphant, if you'll excuse my saying so."

"She knows, as we all do, how precious his life is. And how is your other patient?"

"Armstrong? Practically well. I have given him leave to get up. He has the const.i.tution of a tiger. I wish we could give some of it to the boy."

"Ah, indeed!" said the captain, with a sigh.

On the following day, a desire took possession of the guardian to visit his dear ward in the sick-chamber. Rosalind, who had clung to her post, defiant of fatigue and sleep, had been prevailed upon in deference to her father's peremptory command to seize an hour's sleep in her own room.

"I will sit with him myself," said the captain. "You must not be selfish, my child, in using your privilege. You forget that what gratifies you may also be a pleasure to others. I am going to town in a few days. Who knows if I may see the dear fellow again."

"Father!" exclaimed Rosalind, seizing his arm almost roughly; "he is getting better. The doctor says so."

"My poor child," said her father, with a forced cheerfulness far more terrifying to the girl than his previous melancholy, "I was wrong to alarm you. Yes, of course he is getting better; of course. Come, we must all be brave."

Rosalind, quite broken down, went to her bed and cried herself to sleep.

When the captain entered the sick-chamber, he found the mother at the bedside.

"My dear Eva," said he, "let me beg you to take a little rest. I will remain here. Do give me the pleasure for once. You know how I shall value the privilege."

Mrs Ingleton, who was in truth fairly worn out, was fain to consent, on condition that she should be called at once if necessary.

Having escorted her affectionately to the door, Captain Oliphant seated himself at the bedside, and looked hard at his ward.

The boy lay in a feverish doze, his large dark eyes half-closed, and his head turning now and again restlessly on the pillow.

"My poor dear fellow," said his guardian, bending over him, "how do you feel this afternoon!"

"Better, I think. Where's Rosalind?"

"Gone to bed. I am really afraid of her becoming ill. She looks so pale and worn."

"She was so good to me," said Roger. "I never thought of her getting ill. How long have I been ill?" he asked.

"Three weeks, my boy. What a narrow escape you had. You know I never heard yet what happened that day in the boat. How did it all happen?"

Whereupon Roger, rousing himself still more, began to go over the events of that memorable day, which at that distance of time seemed to loom out in his mind more terrible than at the time.

His guardian, deeply interested in the narrative, drew him out into a full and particular account of all that pa.s.sed: the picnic on the island, the sudden storm, the drive before the wind, the awful roar of the surf on the sh.o.r.e, what each one said and thought and prepared for, and then of the crowning excitement of the rescue, the struggle in the water, and the drowning sensations.

When all was told the boy's head fell exhausted on the pillow, his chest heaved, and he lay half muttering to himself, half moaning, a pitiful spectacle of weakness and exhaustion.

When, an hour later, Rosalind glided in, her father walked with finger to his lips to meet her.

"Make no noise," said he, "the dear lad is sleeping. Don't disturb him whatever you do."

That was a bad night in the sick-room. The fever rose higher and higher. Roger tossed and moaned ceaselessly all night, and for the first time wandered in his talk. Armstrong, who looked in once or twice, durst not let himself be seen by the patient for fear of adding to his excitement. A midnight messenger was despatched for Dr Brandram, who came, looking very grave, and remained at the bedside all night. Captain Oliphant was indefatigable in his inquiries and attentions. He denied himself his natural sleep in order to linger near the dear one's door and feed on the crumbs of information which from time to time came out. He insisted on lending Dr Brandram a pair of his own slippers, and besought Armstrong, with his bad arm, to take care of himself and go shares in his brandy and water.

Finally, when the doctor peremptorily ordered every one to bed, he retired in a chastened mood to his own room, where he packed his trunk and smoked his cigar thoughtfully till daylight struggled through the windows.

Then he took a brief nap in his arm-chair, and was astir in time to meet the doctor as he descended to the hall.

"What news?" he asked.

"Don't ask me," said the doctor; "my calculations are completely upset.

Something has excited him. Whom did he see yesterday?"

"Only my daughter and his mother, and, for a short time, myself."