45. CHAPTER XLV.
APOPLEXY.
Two days after this, Dr. Wills might have been seen riding at
full gallop toward Oakhill.
He had been notified by a frightened man-servant that Colonel
Hartright had suddenly fallen down “in a fit,” and, concluding at
once that this “fit” was apoplexy, had set off riding at a speed
which caused his physician's saddle-bags to flap up and down with
the rapidity of his movements.
Dr. Wills reached Oakhill, and went at once to the chamber
where Colonel Hartright lay moaning, with flushed face and closed
eyes.
A single glance showed him that the old man had been attacked
by apoplexy. He was promptly bled, and the patient was relieved.
As he opened his dull, apathetic eyes, and stared at the doctor,
he said in a low, hoarse voice,
“Is that you, George?”
“There, there, my dear sir, don't exert yourself. I am Dr.
Wills,” said the physician.
“Yes,” said Colonel Hartright, pronouncing the monosyllable
slowly and painfully, “I know you very well, doctor.”
He then turned his head and fixed his eyes, which were half-covered
by the bloodless lids, upon a portrait of his brother George
hanging on the wall opposite the bed.
“I thought you were George,” he muttered. “You are Doctor
Wills—my old friend, Dr. Wills. Am I sick, doctor?”
“You have been a little unwell, my dear sir, but it is a trifle.
I'll have you up by to-morrow. Don't excite yourself.”
The patient closed his eyes again; and sitting down by the bed,
Dr. Wills remained silent, making a gesture to the servant who
opened the door to ascertain if any thing was wanted, to leave him
alone with his master.
At the end of an hour, Colonel Hartright again opened his eyes,
and fixed them upon Dr. Wills. He then tried to move his head
up and down.
“I know you very well, now, sir,” he said, with something of his
old formality. “I must have had an attack of fever. I thought
you were my brother George. What is the character of this
attack, doctor? I think I can answer my own question. It is
apoplexy.”
The physician saw that his patient's mind was perfectly clear,
and that he had rallied.
“You are not mistaken, my dear sir: but the attack is not dangerous
this time. You know I have warned you to expect something
of this sort. It has proved of no importance, however. The
regimen I prescribed will ward off any future danger, I think.”
“Yes,” said the Colonel, slowly and faintly.
He looked again at the portrait, gazing down at him with the
same uninviting stare.
“An excellent likeness!” he said.
“Very excellent, Colonel.”
Colonel Hartright again closed his eyes.
“Strange!” he said, “I thought you were my brother George!”
