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Updated: May 12, 2025
'Fosbroke a village apothecary, the parish doctor, who would have poisoned me. Yes, I should think so. How dare you send for anyone? How dare you treat me like a child? 'I dare do anything which I believe to be for your good, Ida answered, unflinchingly. He quailed before her, and changed his tone in a moment. 'Well, if it gratifies you to spend your money upon physicians How do you do, Dr.
'If you are anxious I should escape a severe cold, perhaps you will be liberal enough to allow me a little brandy, said Brian. Ida was doubtful how to reply. She had been told to withhold all stimulants, and yet this was an exceptional case. Happily at this very moment the door was opened, and Mr. Fosbroke, the family doctor, was announced. She ran to meet him.
Fosbroke came for his noontide visit just after this business of the letter, and found Ida and her stepmother both with the invalid. He was told what they had done. 'Do you think he'll come? Vernon asked, eagerly. 'I should think he would. Sir Vernon, answered the doctor; 'for I know he takes a keen interest in your recovery.
'Brian, she said, when he was gone, 'you must not have any more brandy. It is brandy which has done you harm, which has filled your brain with these horrible delusions. Mr. Fosbroke told me so. You affect to despise him; but he is a sensible man who has had large experience. 'Large experience! in an agricultural village physicking a handful of rustics! cried Brian, scornfully.
The Jardines had been gone three days, and there was no change either for good or evil in Brian's condition. Mr. Fosbroke admitted that he was as ill as he could possibly be the malady must either take a turn for the better, or end fatally within a day or two. The servants all talked of the impending funeral as complacently as Lady Palliser.
Brian was in too low a condition to be rude to the country practitioner, much as he had protested against his interference. He suffered the apothecary to sit by his bed and feel his pulse, without a word of remonstrance. 'How do you find him? asked Mr. Jardine, when Mr. Fosbroke had left the bedside.
Fosbroke, the diligent antiquarian, refers to it as Bede's Chair in accredited manner; that is, as taken for granted, or without note or comment of doubt. Venerable Bede was born at Wearmouth, A.D. 672, only a few years after the introduction of Christianity into Northumberland.
Fosbroke examined the boy carefully, and seemed hardly to like the aspect of the case, though he maintained the customary professional cheeriness. The boy was feverish, very feverish, he admitted; pulse a good deal too rapid; temperature high. One could never tell how these cases were going to turn.
Mallison, if you like, Brian, Ida answered, gently; 'but I know Mr. Fosbroke is a clever man, and he perfectly understands 'Yes, he will have the audacity to tell you he knows what is the matter with me. He will say this is delirium tremens a lie, and you must know it is a lie! To her infinite relief, Mr.
She ran back to her husband, told him she would take some randy and water to his room for him by the time he had hanged his clothes, and then she went with Mr. Fosbroke to in Vernon's room, that bright airy room overlooking the rose garden, which maternal and sisterly love had decorated with all possible prettinesses, and furnished with every appliance of comfort. Mr.
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