im," said old Martha.
Fabian stole on tiptoe out of the room. Dinner was waiting for him down
stairs. He would not deliver his father's selfish message to Rose,
because he wished the poor creature to dine in peace. He told Clarence
to give her his arm to the dining room.
While they were all at dinner Violet explained to her husband why Mr.
Rockharrt had directed her to return home. Poor Violet was very loth to
stir up any ill feeling between the father and son; but she need not
have feared. Mr. Fabian understood the autocrat too well to take offense
at the dismissal of his wife.
The next morning when the family physician arrived, and visited the
injured man, he found him suffering from restlessness and a rising
fever.
He reported this condition to Mr. Clarence Rockharrt, left very
particular directions for the treatment of the patient, and then took
leave, with the promise to return in the evening and remain all night.
Later in the afternoon the doctor, having finished all other
professional calls for the day, arrived at Rockhold. He found his
patient delirious. He took up his post by the sick bed for the night,
and then peremptorily sent off the worn-out watcher, Rose, to the rest
she so much needed.
The condition of Aaron Rockharrt was very critical. Irritative fever had
set in with great violence, and this was the beginning of the hard
struggle for life that lasted many days, during which delirium, stupor,
and brief lucid intervals followed each other with the rise and fall of
the fever. A professional nurse was engaged to attend him; but the real
burden of the nursing fell on Rose.
CHAPTER XXVI.
A VOLUNTARY EXPIATION.
Rose never lost patience. She stayed by the bedside always until the
doctor turned her out of the room. She came back the moment she was
called, night or day.
Weeks passed and Mr. Rockharrt grew better and stronger, but Rose grew
worse and weaker. The fine autumn weather that braced up the
convalescent old man chilled and depressed the consumptive young woman.
It was certain that Mr. Rockharrt would entirely regain his health and
strength, and even take out a new lease of life.
"I never saw any one like your grandfather in all my long practice,"
said the doctor to Cora one morning, after he had left his patient; "he
is a wonder to me. Nothing but a catastrophe could ever have laid him on
an invalid bed; and no other man that I know could have recovered from
such inju
|