University of Virginia Library

7. CHAPTER VII.

“Does your patient sleep?” inquired Lord Templeton
of his eldest daughter, as she returned from
the apartment in which Clifton lay, on the morning
succeeding the attempted robbery.

“He has this moment closed his eyes, for the first
time, as I am informed by the nurse, since he was
conveyed hither, and you cannot imagine how much
I am relieved. I am informed by Dr. Hildreth that
his sufferings have been intense throughout the
night; and when I entered the room this morning
I am certain the pain of his wound was excruciating,
from the rigid expression that his features assumed
while endeavouring to disguise its effects from
the nurse and myself. Although I remained but a
moment in his room, I shall never forget the convulsive

action of the muscles of his face. Oh, dear
papa, if he should not recover, how deeply will we
all regret his interference, for I suppose the robbers
would have been satisfied with fleecing us of our
money and jewels, and what would have been their
loss compared with the life of so noble-looking a fellow-being?”

“Let us hope for the best, my dear child,” was
the reply, as the fond father kissed the polished forehead
of his charming daughter. “If our deliverer
recovers, only think how happy we shall all be to
minister to his comfort and happiness.”

“How much like her departed mother,” thought
Lord Templeton, as he slightly turned to brush away
a tear that glittered in his eye at the recollection of
one too fondly loved—too quickly lost.

The entrance of Doctor Hildreth, who had risen
after a brief sleep, served to arouse the noble lord
from his reverie, and many and eager were the inquiries
of that gentleman and his enthusiastic daughter,
as to the particular symptoms of his patient's
case, and the probabilities of his recovery. To all
these questions the scientific practitioner gave truly
professional replies, which were couched in terms
sufficiently obscure to the fair querist, and not as definite
or intelligible to Lord Templeton himself as
he could have desired.

Doctor Hildreth was one of those unbending apostles
of the healing art, who, to an elevated consciousness
of the dignity of their profession, unite a

scrupulous regard for all its forms; nor did he attempt
to modify or disguise the supreme contempt
with which he viewed those pretenders who were
springing up like mushrooms in every quarter of
the civilized globe, poisoning, as he contended, the
very atmosphere with their vile nostrums, and sacrificing
hecatombs of human beings at the shrine of
ignorance and cupidity. The learned surgeon indeed
lived, and moved, and had his being alone in
the regions of medical science; and while his skill,
judgment and tact were the theme of universal
eulogy, yet all admitted that the friends of his suffering
patients had some reason to murmur at
the unsatisfactory manner in which he replied to
their anxious inquiries. At an earlier period indeed,
not a few of his female friends had openly remonstrated
against his technical explanations, but the
doctor effectually silenced all such rebellious indications
by the sternness of his manner, or abandoned
the patient if further annoyed.

Lord Templeton had, in early life, become warmly
attached to the celebrated surgeon, and truly estimated
his professional skill, while he honoured and
esteemed his independence and manliness; nor did
he fail to see beneath the surface a genuine benevolence
that delighted in acts of charity, which were
studiously concealed from the knowledge of the
world. Doctor Hildreth had failings, but they were
those of a high-minded man, who saw with disgust
the successful efforts of quackery and empiricism to

impose on the credulous; and who, in his indignation
at hypocrisy and deception, at times overstepped
the boundaries of good breeding, while he failed to
make a sufficient allowance for the constitutional
defects and frailties of his species. On the present
occasion Lord Templeton determined to fathom, if
possible, the doctor's precise meaning, and as he
understood the whole length and breadth of his character
and feelings, he from time to time permitted
the conversation to flow into other channels, returning
to the charge whenever an opportunity presented,
and again masking his purpose behind less interesting
topics. In this way he would have soon
learned all he wished to ascertain, if the eager anxiety
of his beautiful daughter could have been suppressed;
but on the doctor's explanation nearly
reaching the desired point, a direct question, hastily
urged by her, would again start the surgeon off on
his professional hobby, when ligaments, muscles,
tendons, nerves, veins, sinews, and arteries, would
be described with true technical fidelity, and their
history, affinities, relations, dependencies, sympathies,
connections, and functions, descanted on with
the enthusiasm of a devotee.

At length sufficient light was vouchsafed to indicate
the dangerous character of the wound, and to
make the querists aware that the necessity of amputation
depended on the symptoms which might be
developed within the succeeding twenty-four hours.

“But, doctor,” said the young lady, “will not

the operation be attended with imminent peril to his
life?”

“That, my good young lady, depends entirely on
the state of the patient. Should the nervous excitement
continue or increase—or should the general
symptoms concentrate in the vicinity of the wound,
and thereby become local—or should the strength of
the patient rapidly give way, or the severing of the arteries
cause too copious depletion—or the febrile irritation
exceed a given point—or the prostrate system
refuse to rally its energies—or the pain of the operation
overpower the resistance which youth and robust
health will oppose to its effects—if either or all
these counteracting influences interpose, it is impossible
to determine how far or to what extent they may
operate. We practitioners of medicine, my dear
lord,” he continued, turning to Lord Templeton, “are
like the mariner on the wide Atlantic. We may be
skilful—we may be prudent—we may be invested
with every requisite attribute to insure success, and
yet, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, a squall
in the shape of an unexpected and fatal symptom,
may shatter our most skilfully wrought professional
fabric—shipwreck our hopes, and consign the despairing
patient to an untimely grave. And yet,
with all these inherent obstacles strewn along our
path, the blind disciples of a blind fatality, recklessly
rush into the professional arena, and instead of exorcising
the foul spirit of disease, the mangled corses
of their victims are the only trophies they exhibit.”

“But if our patient should fortunately escape the
necessity of having his limb amputated, then, I presume,
we may fairly calculate on his recovery,” replied
Lord Templeton.

“My dear lord, make no rash calculations, either
as to the patient's recovery or demise. I have already
succeeded in extracting the ball, which lay
buried in immediate proximity to the thigh bone,
and so far the prospect of ultimate recovery is favourable.
But it is difficult for me to explain, except
to a regular practitioner, the various causes
which, although now dormant, may soon awaken
to activity and embarrass our best efforts. For example,
the state of the young gentleman's nerves
may render amputation hazardous, while danger of
ultimate mortification intimidates us if we delay.
Thus, you see, we have our professional Scylla and
Charybides to steer through, and fortunate is he
who can avoid both. But, my lord, do not for a
moment suppose, because I place before you all the
dangers which beset us, that therefore the chances
are against the recovery of our patient. Has he not
youth and a firm constitution? And while we see
the feeble and tottering victim of age and disease resuscitated,
the Lord forbid that we should despair of
this young man's recovery.”

With this information he again visited the bedside
of his patient, who still slept, if that could be so
termed which was the unquiet effect of powerful
opiates.

Scarce any one who had known Clifton in the
flush of health and enjoyment, and who saw him
now, would have believed that he and the pale and
haggard being before him were one and the same
person. No vestige of colour was visible in that
cheek once so ruddy—the lips bore a wan and deathlike
aspect—his raven hair lay lifelessly over his
forehead; while the convulsive movement of the
corners of his mouth indicated the pain which he
was suffering.

During the whole of that day, and the greater
part of the succeeding night, neither Lord Templeton
nor his eldest daughter ceased to exhibit the
most intense anxiety for the fate of Clifton. Even
the beautiful Euphemia, who, just blushing into
early womanhood, was sportive and thoughtless as
a young fawn, deeply sympathized with her more
sedate sister, while the theme occupied her mind,
but being at that happy period in life in which sunshine
predominates, her spirits quickly bounded to
more joyous impressions, and her expectations of a
favourable issue were more confident and sanguine.

Doctor Hildreth had peremptorily directed the
nurse to exclude every person from visiting or conversing
with the patient, but the anxious Miss Jerningham
hovered like a good angel around the entrance
to his chamber, and embraced every opportunity
that offered to inquire into the particulars of
his case, while the varying changes her beautiful
countenance assumed during the day and evening,

were a faithful index of her excited feelings. On
learning from the nurse any symptom which she
deemed important, either for good or ill, she hastened
to her father, and communicated the facts, to
learn his opinion of their nature and probable results.

Clifton appeared during the day to exhibit every
indication of extreme suffering; and the rapid pulse,
inflamed and wandering eye, and confused intellect,
bore witness to the dangerous character of his wound,
and the uncertainty of its final issue.

Although Lord Templeton was usually capable
of commanding his feelings, yet his anxiety for Clifton
was plainly visible, and he almost emulated his
daughter's eagerness to learn each varying phase of
the invalid's condition.

In the morning the learned surgeon was again assailed
by Lord Templeton and his daughters, whose
impatience to ascertain Clifton's situation was manifest,
no less by words than the expression of their
countenances.

To their great joy, the report was favourable.

During the latter portion of the night, Clifton's
rest had been less disturbed, and he awoke in the
morning, extremely weak, but almost free from fever.
Thus much Lord Templeton and his daughters
gathered from the physician's report, whose
native benevolence induced a ready reply, when its
import was of so satisfactory a character.

The interdiction against all intercourse with the

patient was repeated with renewed emphasis, and
all were too much rejoiced at the favourable prospect
to murmur against a command enforced by so
many important considerations.

From that period, our hero's recovery slowly advanced,
but several weeks elapsed before he could
move with the aid of a crutch. When that period
arrived, however, his recovery was much more
rapid, from the favourable effect of air and exercise;
and the approach of spring with its bland and cheering
influences, although still lingering in the lap of
winter, was sufficiently genial to awaken the dormant
energies of his nature, and throw the rays of
consolation along his chequered existence. To
Lord Templeton, in confidence, he stated the unhappy
result of his duel with Ellingbourne, which,
for the present, rendered it desirable to keep his place
of residence as much concealed as circumstances
would admit.

To this request the noble lord readily acceded,
and although he severely censured the practice of
duelling, he yet frankly admitted the difficulty
which custom threw in the way of its suppression.