She lifted her eyes to his face. "I wanted to tell you all day," she said. "Didn't you come to the door?"
"Many times, my dear."
"And now! oh dear! I don't recollect. Don't go, please."
He sat down by her; she held his hand and dozed again.
"You had best leave her now, sir," said the maid; "she will only go on in this way, and I can tend her."
He would have given a great deal to have been sure that he could hold up his head ten minutes longer and to venture to send the woman away. Cecil muttered "Stay," and he sat on till her sleep seemed deeper, and he felt as if a few moments more might disable him from crossing the room, but his first movement again made her say "Don't."
"Mr. Poynsett cannot stay, ma'am," said Grindstone, in a persuasive tone. "He is very tired, and not well, and you would not wish to keep him."
"Give me a kiss," she said, like a tired child. It was not like the shy embrace with which they had sometimes met and parted, but he knew he must not rouse her, and only said very low, "Good night, my poor dear; God bless you, and grant us a happy meeting, whenever it is."
Tears were flowing down his cheeks when Julius presently came to him again, and only left him when settled for the night.
CHAPTER, XXVII. The Water Lane Fever
The Water Lane Fever. People called it so, as blinking its real name, but it was not the less true that it was a very pestilence in the lower parts of Wil'sbro'; and was prostrating its victims far and wide among the gentry who had resorted to the town-hall within the last few weeks.
Cases had long been smouldering among the poor and the workmen employed, and several of these were terminating fatally just as the outbreak was becoming decisive.
On Monday morning Julius returned from visits to his brothers to find a piteous note from Mrs. Fuller entreating him to undertake two funerals. Her husband had broken down on Sunday morning and was very ill, and Mr. Driver had merely read the services and then joined his pupils, whom he had sent away to the sea-side. He had never been responsible for pastoral care, and in justice to them could not undertake it now. "Those streets are in a dreadful state," wrote the poor lady, "several people dying; and there is such a panic in the neighbourhood that we know not where to turn for help. If you could fix an hour we would let the people know. The doctor insists on the funerals being immediate."
Julius was standing in the porch reading this letter, and thinking what hour he could best spare from nearer claims, when he heard the gate swing and beheld his junior curate with a very subdued and sobered face, asking, "Is it true?"
"That the fever is here? Yes, it is."
"And very bad?"
"Poor Frank is our worst case as yet. He is constantly delirious. The others are generally sensible, except that Terry is dreadfully haunted with mathematics."
"Then it is all true about the Hall. Any one else ill?"
"Only the two Willses. They were carousing at the 'Three Pigeons.' I hope that Raymond's prohibition against that place may have been the saving of the Hall servants. See here," and he gave the note.
"I had better take those two funerals. I can at least do that," said Herbert. "That Driver must be a regular case of a hireling."
"He never professed that the sheep were his," said Julius.
"Then I'll go to the Vicarage and get a list of the sick, and see after them as far as I can," said Herbert, in a grave, humble tone, showing better than a thousand words how he felt the deprivation he had brought on himself; and as to shame or self-consciousness, the need had swallowed them all.
"It will be a great act of kindness, Herbert. The point of infection does not seem clear yet, but I am afraid it will be a serious outbreak."
"I did not believe it could all be true when the report came to Rood House, but of course I came to hear the truth and see what I could do. How is Mrs. Poynsett bearing up?"
"Bravely. Anne contrived our carrying her up-stairs, and it is the greatest comfort to Raymond to lie and look at her, and Susan looks after them both."
"Then he can't be so very ill."
"Not so acutely, but there are symptoms that make Worth anxious. Shall I give you a note for Mrs. Fuller?"
"Do, and put me at your disposal for all you can spare for, or I can do. Have you written to Bindon?"
"I don't know where, within some hundred miles. But, Herbert, I think we ought to undertake the help that is wanted at Wil'sbro'. Smith of Duddingstone is too weakly, and poor old Mr. Moulden neither could nor would. We are the nearest, and having it here already, do not run the risk of spreading it. As things are, I cannot be very long away from home, but I would come in for an hour or so every day, if you could do the rest."
"Yes, that was what I meant," said Herbert.
"Worth says the best protection is never to go among the sick hungry or exhausted. He says he keeps a biscuit in his pocket to eat before going into a sick house. I shall make Rosamond keep you supplied, and you must promise to use them."
"Oh yes, I promise."
"And never drink anything there. There is to be a public meeting to-morrow, to see whether the cause of this outbreak is not traceable to the water down there."
"Mrs. Duncombe's meddling?"
"Don't judge without evidence. But it does seem as if the water at the well at Pettitt's houses had done much of the harm. Terry was drinking it all that hot day, and to-day we hear that Lady Tyrrell and two of the servants are ill, besides poor little Joe Reynolds."
"It is very terrible," said Herbert. "Lady Tyrrell, did you say?"
"Yes. She was there constantly, like Raymond's wife. Happily there is not much fear for your people, Herbert. Your father was at the dinner, but he is not a water drinker, and Jenny only just came to the bazaar, that was all. Edith happily gave up the ball."
"I know," said Herbert, colouring. "Jenny persuaded her to give it up because of-me. Oh, how I have served them all!"
"I told Jenny that perhaps her Ember prayers had been met in the true way."
"Yes," said Herbert. "I can't understand now how I could have been such an audacious fool as to present myself so coolly after the year I had spent. God forgive me for it! Rector, thank you for leaving me at Rood House. It was like having one's eyes opened to a new life. I say, do you know anything about Harry Hornblower? Is he come home?"
"Yes. You wouldn't prosecute?"
"Happily I couldn't. The things were gone and could not be identified, and there was nothing about him. So, though they had me over to Backsworth, they could not fall foul of me for refusing to prosecute. Have you seen him?"
"No, I tried, but he had got out of my way. You've not been there?" seeing that Herbert had brought back his bag.
"No; I will not till I come back;" and as he took the note he added, "Rector, I do beg your pardon with all my might." Then, after a strong clasp of the hand, he sped away with a long, manful, energetic stride, which made Julius contrast his volunteer courage with the flight of the man who, if not pledged to pastoral care at Wil'sbro', still had priestly vows upon him.
Julius had no scruples about risking this favourite home child. If he thought about it at all, it was to rejoice that Mrs. Bowater was safely gone, for he had passed unscathed through scenes at St. Awdry's that would have made his mother tremble, and he had little fear of contagion, with reasonable care. Of course the doctors had the usual debate whether the fever were infectious or epidemic, but it made little difference. The local ones, as well as an authority from London, had an inspection previous to the meeting, which took place in the school, whose scholars were dispersed in the panic. No ladies were admitted. "We have had enough of them," quoted Worshipful Mayor Truelove. Mr. Briggs, the ex-mayor, was at the bedside of his son, and there were hardly enough present to make decisions.
The focus of the disease was in Pettitt's well. The water, though cold, clear, and sparkling, was affected by noxious gases from the drains, and had become little better than poison; the air was not much better, and as several neighbouring houses, some swarming with lodgers, used this water, the evil was accounted for. The 'Three Pigeons' had been an attraction to the servants waiting with their ladies' carriages during the entertainments, and though they had not meddled much with the simple element, spirits had not neutralized the mischief. Thence too had come water for the tea and iced beverages used at the bazaar and ball. Odours there had been in plenty from the untouched drainage of the other houses, and these, no doubt, enhanced the evil; but every one agreed that the bad management of the drains on Mr. Pettitt's property had been the main agency in the present outbreak.