THE contingency which Glastonbury feared, surely happened; MissGrandison insisted upon immediately rushing to her Ferdinand; and asthe maiden aunt was still an invalid, and was incapable of enduring thefatigues of a rapid and anxious journey, she was left behind. Within afew hours of the receipt of Glastonbury's letter, Sir Ratcliffe andLady Armine, and their niece, were on their way. They found letters fromGlastonbury in London, which made them travel to Armine even through thenight.
In spite of all his remedies, the brain fever which the physicianforesaw had occurred; and when his family arrived, the life of Ferdinandwas not only in danger but desperate. It was impossible that even theparents could see their child, and no one was allowed to enter hischamber but his nurse, the physician, and occasionally Glastonbury; forthis name, with others less familiar to the household, sounded so oftenon the frenzied lips of the sufferer, that it was recommended thatGlastonbury should often be at his bedside. Yet he must leave it, toreceive the wretched Sir Ratcliffe and his wife and their disconsolatecompanion. Never was so much unhappiness congregated together under oneroof; and yet, perhaps Glastonbury, though the only one who retainedthe least command over himself, was, with his sad secret, the mostwoe-begone of the tribe.
As for Lady Armine, she sat without the door of her son's chamber thewhole day and night, clasping a crucifix in her hands, and absorbedin silent prayer. Sir Ratcliffe remained below prostrate. The unhappyKatherine in vain offered the consolation she herself so needed; andwould have wandered about that Armine of which she had heard so much,and where she was to have been so happy, a forlorn and solitary being,had it not been for the attentions of the considerate Glastonbury, whoembraced every opportunity of being her companion. His patience, hisheavenly resignation, his pious hope, his vigilant care, his spiritualconsolation, occasionally even the gleams of agreeable converse withwhich he attempted to divert her mind, consoled and maintained her. Howoften did she look at his benignant countenance, and not wonder that theArmines were so attached to this engaging and devoted friend?
For three days did the unhappy family expect in terrible anticipationthat each moment would witness the last event in the life of their son.His distracted voice caught too often the vigilant and agonised ear ofhis mother; yet she gave no evidence of the pang, except by clasping hercrucifix with increased energy. She had promised the physician that shewould command herself, that no sound should escape her lips, and sherigidly fulfilled the contract on which she was permitted to remain.
On the eve of the fourth day Ferdinand, who had never yet closed hiseyes, but who had become during the last twelve hours somewhat morecomposed, fell into a slumber. The physician lightly dropped the handwhich he had scarcely ever quitted, and, stealing out of the room,beckoned, his finger pressed to his lips, to Lady Armine to follow him.Assured by the symbol that the worst had not yet happened, she followedthe physician to the end of the gallery, and he then told her thatimmediate danger was past.
'And now, my dear madam,' said the physician to her, 'you must breathesome fresh air. Oblige me by descending.'
Lady Armine no longer refused; she repaired with a slow step to SirRatcliffe; she leant upon her husband's breast as she murmured to himher hopes. They went forth together. Katherine and Glastonbury were inthe garden. The appearance of Lady Armine gave them hopes. There was afaint smile on her face which needed not words to explain it. Katherinesprang forward, and threw her arms round her aunt's neck.
'He may be saved! he may be saved,' whispered the mother; for in thishushed house of impending death they had lost almost the power as wellas the habit, of speaking in any other tone.
'He sleeps,' said the physician; 'all present danger is past.'
'It is too great joy,' murmured Katherine; and Glastonbury advanced andcaught in his arms her insensible form.