The anxiety was terrible for a short time, during which the sick man seemed to be suffering from acute spasms, which made his limbs contract, and drew the muscles of his features in a way that was painful to behold.

Mr Hampton had started off at once for assistance, and Saul placed himself at Doctor Lawrence’s disposal, holding or supporting the patient as his convulsions took the form of a desire to throw himself upon the floor, or of sinking back off the couch.

“You must have given him too strong a dose, doctor,” said Saul at last, as the sufferer lay ghastly-looking, and, for the moment, still.

His eyes were closed, his teeth set, and his fingers tightly clenched, while the sunken eyes and hollowed cheeks seemed to be those of one suffering from a long and painful illness, and not of a young man but a few hours before in the full tide of health.

“No,” said the doctor thoughtfully, “it was the correct quantity. The only thing I can see is that the chemist must have made some terrible mistake. Ha!” he ejaculated at last, as he sat holding his patient’s hand, “that’s better. The paroxysms of pain have passed away, and – ”

He was speaking too soon, for the sufferer suddenly uttered a wild cry, and began to writhe and struggle upon the couch, groaning and kicking with pain, and apparently unconscious of the fact that Gertrude was kneeling at his side, holding one of his cold, damp hands.

The pain passed off, though, after a time, and, livid-looking, and with eyelids and fingers twitching, he lay once more apparently exhausted, till finally his breathing grew regular and faint in the calm sleep of exhaustion.

About this time the second doctor arrived with Mr Hampton, and the room was cleared for the two medicoes to have their consultation.

The great dining-room looked gloomy in the extreme, lit by a hand-candlestick, which had been brought in from the hall; and its occupants stood listening, Mr Hampton and Saul apart, Mrs Hampton and Gertrude together, waiting eagerly for permission to re-enter the study, where, as Gertrude walked to the dining-room door from time to time, all seemed to be terribly still.

It was when returning agitatedly from one of these visits to the open door that she happened to glance upward to where her old guardian’s portrait hung upon the wall, and it was as if the whole of the feeble light from the candle had become focussed upon the grim features of the stern old man, whose eyes met hers in a questioning manner, and to Gertrude it seemed as if they asked her to do her duty by the erring man.

At last the opening of the study door was heard, followed by hushed voices in the hall, and the local doctor took his departure.

“Well?” said Saul eagerly.

“Mr Herbert agrees with me, Mr Saul. Of course, under the circumstances, I submitted my prescription to him. He agreed that it was correct, and he joins with me in my opinion as to the cause.”

Saul looked at him inquiringly, and it fell to Gertrude’s lot to ask the question as to the cause of the terrible suffering.

“The chemist must have made some grievous mistake, my dear, through being disturbed so late at night.”

“But he will be better soon?”

“He is better now, my child; and it will, perhaps, be a lesson to him,” he added to the lawyer, as they returned to the study, where the patient had sunk into the deep sleep produced by the drug the doctor had administered; the terribly potent chemical he had also taken having exhausted its strength.

“Nothing can be better than this,” said Doctor Lawrence. “And now, if you people will all go to bed, it will be the kindest thing for my patient.”

“But he must not be left,” said Gertrude in a quiet, decided tone.

“He is not going to be left,” replied the doctor. “I shall stop with him, and if anybody is needed I will soon call some one.”

“But you must have some one to sit up with you, Mr Lawrence,” said Mrs Hampton.

“Yes; I will sit up with him,” cried Saul eagerly. “It was not my fault, but I feel a little guilty about his being so ill; and it is too late to go back to town.”

“Very well,” said the doctor quietly, “you can sit up with me;” and they kept vigil by the young man’s side.

Chapter Fifteen
Friendly Advice

It was a fortnight before the sufferer was about again, and during that period Gertrude had begun to look more hopefully upon her future, for, though peevish and fretful to a degree, Mr George Harrington, so Mrs Hampton said, showed the better side of his character.

Saul came twice a week to see the invalid, and at the end of the fortnight was down at The Mynns and out in the garden with him.

“If that confounded, meddling old doctor had left me alone, Saul, old fellow, I should have been all right after a good sleep.”

“Doubtful,” said Saul, smiling.

“Well, nearly all right. I suppose I had been having a little too much.”

“Little! I should have been sorry to have taken half.”

“Ah, well, never mind that. I’m all right again now, only I feel as if I should like to prosecute that chemist for his blunder.”

“He deserves it,” said Saul; “but you couldn’t do anything. It was an accident, that’s all.”

“But, confound the man! he swears, so Lawrence says, that he made the prescription up quite correctly.”

“Perhaps your system will not bear the particular drug he prescribed.”

“My system won’t bear molten lead poured into it,” said the young man tartly. “Hang it! I felt as if I was being burned up.”

“You recollect the sensations, then?”

“Recollect! Why, it sobered me in an instant, and I felt all the time as if the end had come.”

“But it had not, my dear old fellow,” cried Saul enthusiastically. “And as soon as the doctor gives you leave, we’ll have a snug, quiet little dinner together somewhere, and forget all the past.”

“No,” said the other quietly, “I must settle down now, and drop all this fast life. I’ve got to mend and marry little Gertrude.”

Saul’s countenance changed.

“Hallo! what’s the matter? You haven’t taken a dose of the doctor’s medicine, have you?”

“I? No; absurd!”

“Why, you look as white as chalk.”

“Reflection of your sickly face, I suppose,” said Saul, with a forced laugh, “or else I turned pale at the idea of your marrying.”

“Why?”

“Such a loss to bachelors’ society.”

“Don’t be alarmed; I may break out again now and then; but if I do, don’t let old Lawrence touch me.”

“No; that was unfortunate. But look here, George, have you thought any more about that investment?”

“No, how could I – upset like this? Here, I’m faint. Ring that bell.”

Saul touched the hand-bell, and Mrs Denton came hurrying down.

“Here, old girl, bring some whiskey-and-soda.”

Mrs Denton lifted the corner of her apron, and began to pleat it.

“I beg your pardon, sir; the doctor said – ”

“Hang the doctor! He didn’t say my friends were to choke with thirst. Bring the brandy, and be quick. Strange thing one can’t do what one likes in one’s own place. What were you saying, Saul?”

“About that investment.”

“What do I want with investments?” said the convalescent shortly. “I’ve plenty of money.”

“I should have thought you were the very man who did want investments, only getting three per cent, for your money.”

“Think about yourself,” was the gruff rejoinder.

“Well, I was not thinking about myself over that, or I should have asked you to lend me the coin.”

“No, I say, don’t,” cried the other, laughing. “We are such good friends, Saul, and I should offend you if you did ask.”

“Don’t be alarmed. I’ve enough for my wants,” said Saul gruffly.

“Glad to hear it. Then on a little more generous over paying your share when we are out.”

Saul winced.

“Turn for turn, you know.”

“If I’m so mean you shouldn’t go out with me; and next time I suggest an investment to you, tell me of it.”

“There, don’t cut up rough, man. That’s right, old girl; put it down here.”

“Please don’t let master drink, Mr Saul, sir,” whispered the old housekeeper.

Saul gave her a meaning nod and look, and the old lady went back to the house satisfied, while Saul drew his chair from the shadow of the great lilac to get nearer the table.

“I suppose I may,” he said.

“May! Of course; open a bottle for me, too, and don’t be stingy with the whiskey.”

“But are you sure that it will not hurt you?”

“Hurt! No; it does me good.”

He lay back watching Saul, who poured out a very liberal quantity of whiskey into a tall glass.

“That enough?” he said.

“Well, no – little drop more.”

Saul tilted a half wine-glass more into the tumbler before proceeding to open a bottle of soda-water, and pretending to be too intent to note that the convalescent took a goodly sip of the raw spirit in the glass.

“There,” said Saul, as the cork he set free flew out with a loud and he trickled the effervescent water into the tumbler, “that ought to do you good, old fellow.”

“It will,” said his companion, taking a deep draught with the more enjoyment because it was forbidden.

“And if you like to alter your mind, and invest that money – two thousand – I’ll still see that you have the chance, in spite of your sneers.”

“Ah, just you be bad as I have been, Saul, my lad, and perhaps you’ll be snaggy and sneery. By George! that seems to send life through your veins. What did you say the company was?”

“Company be hanged! Am I the sort of fellow to persuade a man to invest in some visionary company with dividends in futuro? Solid mercantile affair, as you can find out for yourself in the city.”

“Ah, well, we’ll see about it. Pass that decanter.”

Saul pushed the little cut-glass vessel across the table, and the convalescent was in the act of taking it, when a hand was laid upon his and held it fast.

Chapter Sixteen
For Gertrude’s Sake

“Beg pardon, Miss Gertrude, could I speak to you for a minute?”

“You will excuse me a moment, Mrs Hampton?”

“Oh, of course, my dear. Don’t stand upon ceremony with me.”

Gertrude rose with an anxious expression of countenance, and followed the old housekeeper from the room.

“Is anything the matter, Denton?”

“No, my dear, only that Master George rang for the spirits, and I’ve taken ’em down the garden where they’re sitting under the big cedar.”

“They?”

“Yes, my dear, Mr Saul’s there. He saw him in the garden, I s’pose, and didn’t come up to the house. And I thought, perhaps, a word from you might keep him out of temptation, my dear; for them spirits do tempt him.”

“Yes, yes, I’ll go, Denton,” said Gertrude quickly; and she hurried down the garden, her steps inaudible on the closely shorn lawn, and came round behind the bushes in time to lay her hand upon that of the would-be suicide.

“What the dev – ”

“George, dear.”

“Oh, it’s you, Gertie. Well, what’s the matter?”

“Mr Saul Harrington,” said the girl, flushing, as she turned upon the visitor, “have you forgotten Doctor Lawrence’s words?”

“I? Oh, no,” said Saul uneasily, “but doctors exaggerate, and dear George here is all the better for a refreshing draught.”

“It is not true,” she retorted angrily. “George, dear, indeed, indeed it is not good for you.”

“Nonsense, my darling,” he cried, drawing her to him so that she stood close to his chair, and he placed his arm about her waist. “You are too particular. Here, just a little more.”

“No, no,” said Gertrude fiercely. “You are so much better now. Don’t, don’t! for my sake, don’t?”

“Hang it! I want only one glass,” he began angrily, with his brow growing knotty with a network of veins. “Don’t be so confoundedly – ”

“George, dear, for my sake,” she whispered.

The change was magical.

“Ah, well, then, I will not, pet. But it would not have hurt me.”

Saul Harrington’s countenance was a study during this colloquy; his face grew more sallow, and a peculiar nervous twitching set in about the corners of his eyes. At one time he seemed to be suffering intense agony, but by an effort he preserved his calmness, and a faint, sardonic smile played about his lips, as his companion assumed the manner of one betrothed toward Gertrude, but those lips looked white all the same.

“Don’t – for my sake, don’t,” he said to himself, unconsciously repeating the girl’s words. “It makes me feel half mad.”

“All right,” said the convalescent. “I’ll take care, then, Gertie. Do you hear, Saul? Spirit except in homoeopathic doses is tabooed, so tempt me not.”

“I tempt you,” said Saul, laughing merrily, but with the vocal chords horribly out of tune; “I like that. My dear Gertrude, here is a man from the States, who has been in the habit of taking whiskey as we take milk; he has been leading me into all kinds of excesses, playing Mephistopheles to me till I have had hard work to keep out of trouble, and then he turns upon me and says, ‘tempt me not.’”

“Don’t talk about it, please,” said Gertrude imploringly.

“Not I, you happy pair,” said Saul, rising, and again laughing unpleasantly as he took up his glass.

“Here’s a speedy and a happy union to you both.”

He drained his glass, and set it down in silence, as Gertrude’s face crimsoned, and then grew pale, while the master of The Mynns frowned.

“Isn’t that what you English people call bad taste?” he said sourly.

“Surely not, my dear boy. I am only Cousin Saul, and have a right to banter a little. There, I’m off back to town.”

“I thought you were going to stay and have a hand at cards, and I want to have a game at billiards on the new table.”

“Cards, billiards? For shame, man, when the lovely Thais sits beside you. Why don’t you take the good the gods provide you?”

“Eh? What do you mean. Hang it all, don’t begin quoting poetry to a fellow. What does he mean, Gertie? Oh, I see. Very good. But that’s all right. She and I understand one another, and we shall have plenty of time to court after we’re married. Eh, Gertie?”

“I must go back to Mrs Hampton now,” said Gertrude gravely.

“Hang Mrs Hampton! How glad I shall be to see her back. But don’t tell her, Gertie.”

She gave him a sad look, and bent down to whisper:

“Remember.”

“Yes, I’ll remember,” was the reply, as her hand was caught and held for a few moments before she could withdraw it.

Saul Harrington’s teeth gritted together as he drew in his breath hard.

“The jade!” he said to himself. “Womanlike. It means diamonds and carriages, does it, my cunning little schemer? Well, we shall see.”

He watched her furtively as she went off slowly; but he could not see the tears welling up to her eyes and brimming over, as with bended head she returned to the house, and in place of going upstairs directly, went into the dining-room, to stand for a few minutes with hands clasped gazing up at the searching eyes of the picture; and her lips moved as she whispered softly:

“It is so – so hard, dear; but for your sake I will, and bring him back to what you wish him to be.”

“Bless her little heart!” said the master of The Mynns, with a sneering laugh, which made Saul start. “Nice little lassie, isn’t she? Do you know, old fellow, I believe you wish you were in my shoes.”

“Bah!”

“There, you look it again. But it’s no good, Saul, my son. It was the old man’s wish, and that’s sacred to her, and, besides, she has taken to me wonderfully. I’m sorry for you, but it’s fate, my boy, fate.”

“Your fate?”

“Yes. But never mind, old boy. I’ll stand by you, and it’s something to make up for your disappointment.”

“Disappointment, man! What disappointment?”

“Yours,” said the other mockingly. “That settles it. You’re a clever fellow, Saul Harrington, but a wretched failure at hiding your feelings.”

“Or else you are a little too clever at divining,” retorted Saul.

“Perhaps so, old fellow. But never mind that. I’ve made up my mind about that investment.”

“And you decline.”

“No; I shall sell out or raise, or do something; and you may tell your friends to do what is necessary.”

“You mean it, George?”

“Of course, I mean it. You have not known me long, but you ought to have seen by now that I never play over money matters. By the way, shall you bring some one here to settle the business?”

“No, I shall take you to the city.”

“When?”

“Oh, not for a week or so. There will be papers to prepare – a sort of transfer.”

“Well, hadn’t I better do it all through old Hampton?”

“If you do, the business will never come off.”

“Because it is too risky.”

“Hampton will say it is.”

“Ah, well, we shall see about that.”

They stayed talking for long enough in the garden, and then went into the house to play billiards till dinner time, when Saul proposed leaving, but was overruled, and he stayed to keep up the principal part of the conversation, and in spite of all that his friend had said, he masked his own feelings so admirably as to throw whoever suspected him off guard.

“I’m going to persuade George to come up soon,” he said; “and I’m going to beg for a little music, Gertie.”

He said this as he held the door open for the ladies to pass out. But he did not keep his word, for the gentlemen sat long over their coffee, and then adjourned to the study.

“Don’t fidget, my dear,” said Mrs Hampton, over their tea. “Mr Hampton is going to stay down to the last, and he’ll speak out if George attempts to take too much.”

Gertrude felt pleased, and yet hurt for her betrothed’s sake, but she said nothing, only felt that all was going on as she could wish, while down in the study the two young men exchanged glances which seemed in each case to say:

“Old Hampton’s down here on guard over the whiskey-bottle.”

“I may smoke,” said the young host, aloud.

“Of course, my dear sir,” said the old lawyer placidly, “of course; but you must not indulge in what Mr Saul Harrington here is taking with impunity.”

“Never mind. I shall be quite right soon, and then I can set you all at defiance. Oh, by the way, Mr Hampton, my funds at the bank are low. I want you to place two thousand pounds more to my credit.”

The old lawyer knit his brows a little, but received his orders calmly enough.

“Am I to dispose of those A Shares, Mr Harrington?”

“Yes, that will do; they bring in no interest worth having.”

“It shall be done, sir. But it will be nearly a fortnight before the transfer can be made.”

“That will do. There is no hurry. Shall we join the ladies now?”

“By all means.”

About an hour later Saul Harrington took his leave, looking friendliness personified, as he promised to be down again soon.

“And disabuse your mind of those fancies, George,” he said, as they walked down to the gate.

“What fancies?”

“About Gertie. Had it been as you say, I had a couple of years for my siege. To show you that you are wrong, I want you to make me a promise.”

“What is it?”

“Let me be best man at your wedding.”

“I was going to ask you.”

“Then that’s settled. Good-night. I’ll put matters in train for the investment.”

“Thanks, do; you see I am in earnest.”

“It takes some thinking out,” said Saul, as he walked slowly toward the station, cigar in mouth, “but it’s worth working for. Poor miserable idiot! And he believes he’s cleverness refined.”

“I don’t quite see through Master Saul’s game,” said the object of his thoughts, as he lit a fresh cigar, and after walking up and down the path a few times, went into the study, where he threw himself upon a couch, and lay looking through the soft wreaths of smoke.

“He’s as jealous as a Turk, and he’d do anything to come between me and little Gertie. But, poor little lass, she’s caught – limed. That’s safe enough. The brute! He led me on and on that night, over that bad champagne, and hardly touched it himself. Wanted to show me up here; and it only made the little darling fonder of me. He’s plotting, but he’s a shallow-brained ass, and one of these days I shall come down upon him a crusher. Now, what does he mean about that money. I don’t want to lose two thousand, but would with pleasure to get him out of the way, for he’s like a lion in one’s path, and I never feel sure. Next heir, eh? Next heir. And my coming kept him out of the cake.”

“Well, Master Saul Harrington,” he said, after a pause, “you may be very clever, but one gets one’s brains edged up a bit out in the West, and if you mean mischief over that money, pray, for your own sake, be careful, for two can play at that game.”

He rose slowly and marched across to the cabinet, one of whose drawers he unlocked; and as he stood with his back to the window, a dimly-seen face appeared at a short distance from one of the panes, and was made more indistinct by a tuft of the evergreen which grew at the side, and half behind which the owner of the face was concealed.

The watcher gazed eagerly in, but was unable to make out whether the occupant of the room was examining letters or counting over money – the latter suggested itself as correct.

But he was wrong, for the possessor of The Mynns was slowly and carefully thrusting cartridge after cartridge into the chambers of a large revolver, one which had been his companion far away in the West.

“‘A friend in need is a friend indeed,’” he said, as he closed the drawer. “It may be imagination, but when one has a fortune, a goodly home, and a pretty girl waiting to call one ‘hub,’ a fellow wants to live as long as he can. If it’s fancy, why, there’s no harm done.”

As he spoke, the face at the window was still watching, but so far from the pane as to be invisible from within.