and vigorous remedies, which had indeed before the surgeon's arrival suggested themselves to, and been partly commenced by, Darrell, who had gone through too many varieties of experience to be unversed in the rudiments of leechcraft. "If I were in my guest's state," asked Darrell of the practitioner, "what would you do?"
"Telegraph instantly for Dr. F."
"Lionel—you hear? Take my own horse—he will carry you like the wind. Off to * * * *; it is the nearest telegraph station."
Darrell did not stir from Waife's bedside all that anxious night. Dr. F did not arrive till morning. He approved of all that had been done, but nevertheless altered the treatment; and after staying some hours, said to Darrell, "I am compelled to leave you for the present; nor could I be of use in staying. I have given all the aid in my power to Nature—we must leave the rest to Nature herself. That fever—those fierce throes and spasms—are but Nature's efforts to cast off the grasp of the enemy we do not see. It now depends on what degree of rallying power be left to the patient. Fortunately, his frame is robust, yet not plethoric. Do you know his habits?"
"I know," answered George; "most temperate, most innocent."
"Then, with constant care, minute attention to my directions, he may recover."
"If care and attention can save my guest's life, he shall not die," said Darrell.
The physician looked at the speaker's pale face and compressed lips. "But, Mr. Darrell, I must not have you on my hands too. You must not be out of your bed again to-night."
"Certainly not," said George. "I shall watch alone."
"No," cried Lionel, "that is my post, too."
"Pooh!" said Darrell; "young men so far from Death are not such watchful sentinels against his stroke as men of my years, who have seen him in all aspects; and, moreover, base indeed is the host who deserts his own guest's sick-chamber. Fear not for me, doctor; no man needs sleep less than I do."
Dr. F slid his hand on Darrell's pulse. "Irregular—quick; but what vitality! what power!—a young man's pulse! Mr. Darrell, many years for your country's service are yet in these lusty beats."
Darrell breathed his chronic sigh, and, turning back to Waife's bedside, said, "When will you come again?"
"The day after to-morrow."
