CHAPTER XXV.

THE DOCTOR FROM NEWCASTLE.

LADY Thornyhaugh turned out a true prophet. Amabel slept long and heavily, and when she waked she was unable to rise. The old lady came up to see her, and pronounced at once that she was in for some sort of fever.

The disease did not seem very violent at first. Amabel was wandering at times, but she always knew my voice and was as docile as a child. She had bad nights and slept a good deal in the day-time. She had no appetite, and would take nothing but tea, to the great annoyance of Mrs. Alice, who held tea to be a new-fangled poison; and ranked it with a broken covenant, a toleration of sectaries, and all the other crying evils of the time. All the evils then existing in the kingdoms were attributed by her to one of two causes—a broken covenant, and the iniquitous union between England and Scotland.

I cannot say I have to this day a very clear notion of this same covenant, though I heard of it, till I wished either that it had not been made at all, or that it had been broken more effectually and blown out of remembrance.

But, day by day, Amabel grew more feeble and wasted, till at last she could not raise her head from the pillow, or her hand to her head. One day she called me to her bed-side—

"Lucy!" said she in a whisper. "I am going to die."

I could not contradict her. I believed it too, though I dared not dwell on the thought for a moment.

"I know my aunt and Mrs. Alice think so!" she continued. "I should be content, Lucy, only for you. My life has not been long, but I have learned that this world is a sad place for motherless girls."

"You must not talk, my dearest, you will exhaust yourself!" was all I could say.

"It will not hurt her!" said Lady Thornyhaugh, in a whisper from behind the curtain. "Let her say her say and ease her mind."

"I am ready to go!" repeated Amabel. "But, oh, Lucy! I want to see my father and Walter. I want to see my father once more—to tell him—to warn him—"

Her voice failed for a moment. I gave her a little wine and she went on.

"Lucy, if I never see him again, tell him that I could not help acting as I did. If he ever feels sorry, tell him that I forgive him where there is anything to forgive. And tell Walter I always loved him; tell him to go on as he is doing. We shall meet again."

She could say no more, and for some hours we thought she would never speak again.

The doctor, a sensible man, gave us very little hope.

"The disease is mostly of the mind, but it is wearing out the body!" said he. "If she could be thoroughly roused and the current of her thoughts changed, it would give her the best chance."

Lady Thornyhaugh followed the doctor from the room, and had a somewhat lengthened conference with him, in the course of which I was surprised to hear the doctor laugh.

"The very thing, madam!" I heard him say. "I would go for him myself, if I could leave my patients."

"Who would the doctor go for?" I asked, when Lady Thornyhaugh came back.

"Another doctor!" said she. "I have sent off an express for him. I have also sent for her father, but I doubt the messenger finding him. Take comfort, bairn, the case is not desperate. In the multitude of counselors there is safety, and I have known muckle good come from a change of doctors. But don't say a word to Amabel if she rouses up."

The days went on to three or four, and still Amabel seemed to grow weaker. She lay most of the time in a sort of trance, now and then rousing to take a spoonful of tea or milk. I read to her from the Bible and Prayer-Book, and the look of her face seemed to show that she heard and liked the words, and sometimes I sung softly, "Jesus, Lover of my Soul!" and others of Mr. Wesley's hymns.

I was thus engaged one day, when I heard the trampling of horses' feet, and the usual noises of a traveler's arrival. Amabel opened her eyes.

"Lucy, he is come!" she whispered.

"Who has come, dearest!" I asked, rejoicing to hear the voice I almost thought I should never hear again.

"My father! I heard his voice. He will be in time. Let him come up! Go and bring him."

I stopped a few minutes in my own room to compose myself, for the very thought of meeting Sir Julius roused such a tempest of indignation in my breast that I could hardly breathe.

When I went down to the sitting-room, I found Sir Julius walking up and down the room, evidently overwhelmed with grief and embarrassment, while my lady seated in her great chair was laying down the law to him, and Mrs. Alice behind her stood regarding him as though he were the breaker of the covenant, the author of the union, and the gypsy who stole her ducks, all rolled into one.

"But you must allow, aunt, that I had a right to bestow my daughter in marriage according to my own will!" said he, making a feeble effort to justify himself.

"I allow no such thing, nephew. You had no right to make your child miserable, by giving her to a bad man and one that she detested. You know this Bulmer to be a bad man!"

"Well, he was a friend to my lady, and she was set on the match."

"And you let her rule you! And you allow this same friend of hers to stay at your house in your absence and give orders to your servants and shut your daughter up in her own room and half starve her, while you are sent away on a wild-goose chase and made the scorn of the whole country."

Sir Julius turned red and white, and seemed not to know what to say.

"Well, Lucy Corbet, what is it?" said Lady Thornyhaugh, turning to me.

"Amabel is awake, madam!" said I. I could not bring myself to speak to Sir Julius. "She knows her father is here, and desires to see him, and I do not think there is any time to be lost."

"She is not so bad as that, surely!" said Sir Julius, turning pale.

"She is at death's door!" was the answer. "I have sent for another doctor from Newcastle. If he fails, all hope is over."

Amabel did, indeed, look like a body from which the breath had departed, as we entered the room. She smiled faintly as her father kissed her, but did not try to speak. I gave her a little wine and she opened her eyes and fixed them on Sir Julius with a look which must have gone to his heart, it was so full of love and of sorrow.

"Daughter, don't you know me?" said he, almost choked with grief, yet striving to command himself. "Speak to me, my love! Do you not know me?"

She made a faint sign of assent, and pressed his hand, but she could not speak.

"Oh, my child, my dear dutiful child, whom I have left to be murdered!" exclaimed the poor man, now really cut to the heart. "Only live and you shall never be troubled about this matter again."

She smiled again, and made an effort to speak, but in vain. Her eyes closed, and it seemed as though every faint breath must be the last. As we stood round her, sounds below announced the arrival of another guest.

"The doctor from Newcastle, but I doubt he comes too late," whispered the old lady.

She left the room as she spoke.

In a minute a man's hasty foot was heard on the stairs. Amabel opened her eyes and looked eagerly toward the door.

"He has come!" she whispered. "Thank God."

The door opened and Mr. Cheriton entered in his riding gear, just as he had dismounted, and stained with travel. He went straight to the bed, without giving so much as a look at any one of us, and took Amabel in his arms.

"My love, my precious one. Amabel, you must live for me! No one shall part us, more."

"No, Amabel, no one shall part you more!" said Sir Julius, speaking now with real dignity and feeling. "I have been cruel, and I have been misled by others, but my eyes are opened. Will you not try to live for your father and for the husband of your choice?"

"I will try!" said Amabel, speaking more cheerily than she had done for several days. The old lady made a sign, and we stole out of the room and left the lovers together.

"Aweel, Lucy Corbet, what think you of my doctor from Newcastle?" asked the old lady when we were in her parlor once more. "Has he not been worth more than all the bitters and bark for our patient?"

"Then you sent for Mr. Cheriton!" said Sir Julius, rather dubiously.

"I suppose, nephew, I can invite what guests I please to my own house!" answered the old lady, drawing herself up.

"Of course, of course, aunt, you have done the best thing possible, and just what I should have proposed, had I been here!" said Sir Julius. "I am very much obliged to you."

"It's a pity you had not thought as much before matters came to this pass!" muttered the old lady, who was rather apt to think aloud. "But, however, all's well that ends well, only remember, nephew, that you have given your consent to the wedding of these young ones, and cannot in honor withdraw a second time."

"I have no wish to withdraw at all!" returned Sir Julius, peevishly. "I wonder why every one takes me for a weak fool with no mind of my own."

"'Tis a wonder indeed!" said the old lady gravely. "But you must have refreshment after your ride. Alice, will you see if the meal is ready?"

Before dinner was served, Mr. Cheriton came down stairs, looking pale and worn enough, but very happy.

"She has taken half a cup of broth, and is sleeping quietly!" said he. "I hope the crisis is safely past, but she is very weak."

"We must try to strengthen her!" said Lady Thornyhaugh.

"I bring a petition from her to her father!" continued Mr. Cheriton. "I trust he will not refuse."

"'Tis a wonder if I do!" said Sir Julius, giving Mr. Cheriton his hand with great cordiality. "What is it?"

It was neither more nor less than that Amabel and Mr. Cheriton should be married then and there.

"She wishes at least to bear my name, she says, and that 'wife of Walter Cheriton' may be on her tombstone!" said the poor young man, his eyes overflowing in spite of himself. "Surely, Sir, you will not refuse what may be her last request."

"No, indeed!" replied Sir Julius. "She shall have her own way in everything, if she will only try to get well, and after all, once they are married, there will be no more to be said," he added, speaking more to himself than to us. Then aloud—

"But where to find a clergyman!"

"A minister is not far to seek!" said Lady Thornyhaugh. "Here is good Mr. Craig, not half a mile away. I can send man and horse for him at once if you say so."

"But he is a Presbyterian!" said Sir Julius rather perplexed.

"He is the best I can give you, however!" answered the old lady. "We have no other kind in these parts, unless you like to wait till I can send to Edinbro' for one of your non-juring sort. If you do not like mice, you should not take up your house with the owl you ken. Mr. Craig has visited your daughter many times during her illness and she has found comfort in his prayers. I fancy she will not object to take her husband at his hands."

"Do not let there be any needless delay!" said Mr. Cheriton, earnestly. "Amabel is so weak that a little agitation may make all the difference in the world."

"Don't be alarmed!" said Lady Thornyhaugh. "We will manage the matter. Nephew, is it your pleasure that I send for this good man?"

"Of course! Send at once!" replied Sir Julius. "I only trust that the fatigue of the ceremony may not be too much for my daughter."

"Never fear! She will not die from getting her own way!" answered Lady Thornyhaugh. "I will send Alick, directly."

Within an hour, Walter Cheriton and Amabel Leighton were wedded.

"Thank you, dear father!" said Amabel, sinking back, when we had all kissed her.

"Now, I am ready to go!"

"Hoot, toot, bairn! You are just ready to stay!" said the old lady. "Would you go and leave your good man so soon, after you have had all this fash to get him? Go down now all of you, and leave this child to Alice and me for awhile. She will be the better of rest and quiet, and you will be muckle the better of your dinners."

"But I fear I must return to Edinburgh, to-night, aunt!" said Sir Julius, hesitating.

"You will do nothing of the kind!" said Lady Thornyhaugh, positively. "Would you leave the bairn before she is able to talk five minutes with you? Na, na! Your place is here just now. Yon lad at Edinbro' can want you well enough, and maybe you will think better of it and go home."

I do not think the prospect of going home was very enticing to Sir Julius, after all that had happened, but he readily agreed to stay a few days till it should be seen what turn Amabel would take. Now that the thing was done, I believe he was glad to have her made happy in her own way. He was not altogether a bad man. He might even have been a good one if he had always lived with good people. The trouble was that he had absolutely no mind of his own.

The next day, Amabel was decidedly better, and on the third she was able to sit up. Sir Julius began to talk of returning to Edinburgh, though, as I thought, not with any particular enthusiasm, when news arrived which changed all his plans.

Old Robert came riding posthaste with letters from Mrs. Deborah, and startling letter's they were. The Hall had taken fire a few days after we left it and was almost entirely destroyed. No one had been hurt, but my lady had disappeared, and it was believed that she had perished in the flames.

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