Thorne,' said he; 'the greatest possible respect: a most skilful practitioner—something brusque certainly, and perhaps a little obstinate. But what then? we have all our faults, Lady Scatcherd.'
'Oh—yes; we all have, Mr. Rerechild; that's certain.'
'There's my friend Fillgrave—Lady Scatcherd. He cannot bear anything of that sort. Now I think he's wrong; and so I tell him.' Mr. Rerechild was in error here; for he had never yet ventured to tell Dr. Fillgrave that he was wrong in anything. 'We must bear and forbear, you know. Dr. Thorne is an excellent man—in his way very excellent, Lady Scatcherd.'
This little conversation took place after Mr. Rerechild's first visit to his patient: what steps were immediately taken for the relief of the sufferer we need not describe. They were doubtless well intended, and were, perhaps, as well adapted to stave off the coming evil day as any that Dr. Fillgrave, or even the great Sir Omicron Pie might have used.
And then Dr. Thorne arrived.
'Oh, doctor! doctor!' exclaimed Lady Scatcherd, almost hanging round his neck in the hall. 'What are we to do? What are we to do? He's very bad.'
'Has he spoken?'
'No; nothing like a word: he has made one or two muttered sounds; but, poor soul, you could make nothing of it—oh, doctor! doctor! he has never been like this before.'
It was easy to see where Lady Scatcherd placed any such faith as she might still have in the healing art. 'Mr. Rerechild is here and has seen him,' she continued. 'I thought it best to send for two, for fear of accidents. He has done something—I don't know what. But, doctor, do tell me the truth now; I look to you to tell me the truth.'
Dr. Thorne then went up and saw his patient; and had he literally complied with Lady Scatcherd's request, he might have told her at once that there was no hope. As, however, he had not the heart to do this, he mystified the case as doctors so well know how to do, and told her that 'there was cause to fear, great cause for fear; he was sorry to say, very great cause for much fear.'
Dr. Thorne promised to stay that night there, and, if possible, the following night also; and then Lady Scatcherd became troubled in her mind as to what she should do with Mr. Rerechild. He also declared, with much medical humanity, that, let the inconvenience be what it might, he too would stay the night. 'The loss,' he said, 'of such a man as Sir Roger Scatcherd was of such paramount importance as to make other matters trivial.
