Cursed by a Fortune. Fenn George Manville

then rose, replaced the papers in the tin case, and crossed and rang the bell.

      “Send Mr Harry here.”

      “He went out as soon as he left your room, sir.”

      “Thank you; that will do.” Then, as the door closed upon the clerk, Garstang said softly:

      “So that’s it; then it is quite time to act.”

      Chapter Four

      “Will that Doctor never come!” muttered plump Mrs Wilton, who had been for the past ten minutes running from her niece’s bedside to one of the front casement windows of the fine old Kentish Manor House, to watch the road through the park. “He might have come from London by this time. There, it’s of no use; it’s fate, and fate means disappointment. She’ll die; I’m sure she’ll die, and all that money will go to those wretched Morrisons. Why did he go out to the farms this morning? Any other morning would have done; and Claud away, too. Was ever woman so plagued? – Yes, what is it? Oh, it’s you, Eliza. How is she?”

      “Quite insensible, ma’am. Is the Doctor never coming?”

      “Don’t ask me, Eliza. I sent the man over in the dog-cart, with instructions to bring him back.”

      “Then pray, pray come and stay with me in the bedroom, ma’am.”

      “But I can’t do anything, Eliza, and it isn’t as if she were my own child. I couldn’t bear to see her die.”

      “Mrs Wilton!” cried the woman, wildly. “Oh, my poor darling young mistress, whom I nursed from a babe – die!”

      “Here’s master – here’s Mr Wilton,” cried the rosy-faced lady from the window, and making a dash at a glass to see that her cap was right, she hurried out of the room and down the broad oaken stairs to meet her lord at the door.

      “Hallo, Maria, what’s the matter?” he cried, meeting her in the hall, his high boots splashed with mud, and a hunting whip in his hand.

      “Oh, my dear, I’m so glad you’ve come! Kate – fainting fits – one after the other – dying.”

      “The devil! What have you done?”

      “Cold water – vinegar – burnt – ”

      “No, no. Haven’t you sent for the Doctor?”

      “Yes, I sent Henry with the dog-cart to fetch Mr Leigh.”

      “Mr Leigh! Were you mad? What do you know about Mr Leigh? Bah, you always were a fool!”

      “Yes, my dear, but what was I to do? It would have taken three hours to get – Oh, here he is.”

      For there was the grating of carriage wheels on the drive, the dog-cart drew up, and Pierce Leigh sprang down and entered the hall.

      Mrs Wilton glanced timidly at her husband, who gave her a sulky nod, and then turned to the young Doctor.

      “My young niece – taken bad,” he said, gruffly, “You’d better go up and see her. Here, Maria, take him up.”

      Unceremonious; but businesslike, and Leigh showed no sign of resentment, but with a peculiar novel fluttering about the region of the heart he followed the lady, who, panting the while, led the way upstairs, and breathlessly tried to explain how delicate her niece was, and how after many days of utter despondency, she had suddenly been seized with an attack of hysteria, which had been succeeded by fit after fit.

      The next minute they were in the handsome bedroom at the end of a long, low corridor, where, pale as death, and with her maid – erst nurse – kneeling by her and fanning her, Kate Wilton, in her simple black, lay upon a couch, looking as if the Doctor’s coming were too late.

      He drew a deep breath, and set his teeth as he sank on one knee by the insensible figure, which he longed with an intense longing to clasp to his breast. Then his nerves were strung once more, and he was the calm, professional man giving his orders, as he made his examination and inspired aunt and nurse with confidence, the latter uttering a sigh of relief as she opened the window, and obeyed sundry other orders, the result being that at the end of half an hour the sufferer, who twice over unclosed her eyes, and responded to her aunt’s questions with a faint smile, had sunk into the heavy sleep of exhaustion.

      “Better leave her now, madam,” said Leigh, softly. “Sleep is the great thing for her.” Then, turning to the maid – “You had better stay and watch by her, though she will not wake for hours.”

      “God bless you, sir,” she whispered, with a look full of gratitude which made Leigh give her an encouraging smile, and he then followed Mrs Wilton downstairs.

      “Really, it’s wonderful,” she said. “Thank you so much, Doctor. I’m sure you couldn’t have been nicer if you’d been quite an old man, and I really think that next time I’m ill I shall – Oh, my dear, she’s ever so much better now.”

      “Humph!” ejaculated Wilton; and then he gave his wife an angry look, as she pushed him in the chest.

      “Come in here and sit down, Mr Leigh. I want you to tell us all you think.”

      The Doctor followed into the library, whose walls were covered with books that were never used, while, making an effort to be civil, their owner pointed to a chair and took one himself, Leigh waiting till his plump, amiable-looking hostess had subsided, and well-filled that nearest the fire.

      “Found her better then?” said Wilton.

      “No, sir,” said Leigh, smiling, “but she is certainly better now.”

      “That’s what I meant. Nothing the matter, then. Vapours, whims, young girls’ hysterics, and that sort of thing? What did she have for breakfast, Maria?”

      “Nothing at all, dear. I can’t get her to eat.”

      “Humph! Why don’t you make her? Can’t stand our miserable cookery, I suppose. Well, Doctor, then, it’s a false alarm?”

      “No, sir; a very serious warning.”

      “Eh? You don’t think there’s danger? Here, we’d better send for some big man from town.”

      “That is hardly necessary, sir, though I should be happy to meet a man of experience in consultation.”

      “My word! What airs!” said Wilton, to himself.

      “As far as I could I have pretty well diagnosed the case, and it is very simple. Your niece has evidently suffered deeply.”

      “Terribly, Doctor; she has been heart-broken.”

      “Now, my dear Maria, do pray keep your mouth shut, and let Mr Leigh talk. He doesn’t want you to teach him his business.”

      “But James, dear, I only just – ”

      “Yes, you always will only just! Go on, please, Doctor, and you’ll send her some medicine?”

      “It is hardly a case for medicine, sir. Your niece’s trouble is almost entirely mental. Given rest and happy surroundings, cheerful female society of her own age, fresh air, moderate exercise, and the calmness and peace of a home like this, I have no doubt that her nerves will soon recover their tone.”

      “Then they had better do it,” said Wilton, gruffly. “She has everything a girl can wish for. My son and I have done all we can to amuse her.”

      “And I’m sure I have been as loving as a mother to her,” said Mrs Wilton.

      “Yes, but you are mistaken, sir. There must be something more. I’d better take her up to town for advice.”

      “By all means, sir,” said Leigh, coldly. “It might be wise, but I should say that she would be better here, with time to work its own cure.”

      “Of course, I mean no disrespect to you, Mr Leigh, but you are a young man, and naturally inexperienced.”

      “Now I don’t want to hurt your feelings, James,” broke in Mrs Wilton, “but it is you who are inexperienced in what young girls are. Mr Leigh has spoken