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Updated: May 27, 2025


"It never happened before," the young man said, in lower tones. "I never had to give in before." "Now tell me," Dr. Whitsen continued. "Dr. Ballardyce is your usual medical attendant, is he not?" "I know him very well; he is an old friend of mine, but I've never had occasion to trouble him much," was the answer, given with some greater care and reserve.

Ballardyce would see at once about having a professional nurse sent; meanwhile, quiet, rest, and the absence of mental disturbance were the great things. And so the two augurs departed. The moment that Mangan returned to Lionel's room, the latter glanced at him quickly and furtively. "Are they gone, Maurice?" he whispered. "Yes." "And the check for Lord Rockminster?"

She considered for a second or two; then she said, with a matter-of-fact air: "They needn't make a fuss about that. His throat will be all right. It is only repeated congestions that seriously affect the membrane; and he has been exceptionally lucky or exceptionally strong, perhaps. Who is his doctor?" "Dr. Ballardyce." "Don't know him." "Then there's Dr. Whitsen." "Oh, that's all right he'll do.

Ballardyce called next morning, he found that the fever had gained apace; all the symptoms were aggravated the temperature, in especial, had seriously increased. The sick man lay drowsily indifferent, now and again moaning slightly; but sometimes he would waken up, and then there was a curiously anxious and restless look in his eyes.

Ballardyce came that evening to make his usual examination, his report was of a twofold character: the fever was still ravaging the now enfeebled constitution the temperature, in especial, being seriously high; but the patient seemed much calmer in mind.

Daylight came, and still he lay there, moaning and murmuring to himself. But help was at hand. Between ten and eleven, Dr. Ballardyce, who had paid his usual morning visit, was going away, and Maurice, as his custom was, went down-stairs with him to hear the last word.

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