Chapter X: Fever

Auna went early next morning to see her father, and found him sick.

"I'm very bad," he said, "with chills and heats all night, and stiff in knees and ankles and wrists. It's like that burn-gout Billy had, I fear, only it torments all the joints so sharply that I can't bear the bedclothes upon me."

His face told of pain. As yet he seemed more surprised than alarmed that sickness should have fallen so suddenly upon him. He shrank from her touch and feared even her light hand as she pulled the tumbled coverlet.

"Fetch me some hot drink," he said, "and then we'll think what's to be done."

"There's but one thing to do, father, and that's to fetch doctor to you so quick as ever I can."

"I fear I can't get up, Auna."

"Of course you can't. Don't you talk. Your teeth chatter so. I'll put food and drink by you and then get on the horse and go down."

She left him for twenty minutes, made some tea and brought it to him with bread and butter. He could not eat but drank thirstily.

"A beautiful day, father, and the dog's run home. So soon as I let him out this morning, he was off."

Jacob already began to wander.

"That's a bad sign. The dog may know I'm going to die. I hope he's right; but I don't feel as if I was going to die."

"No, no, father. It's only a chill along of being wet through yesterday."

"As to your going down, I don't know. We'd better leave it to Nature. I may take a turn presently."

"I hope you will; but you mustn't prevent me going down. It's your duty to try and get well, father, and a doctor would help you."

"Cousins from the Cottage Hospital then--nobody else. But there's no hurry."

Auna, however, knew that she ought not to lose a moment. The way was long and, at best, it must be several hours before succour could be won.

"Tell me just exactly how you feel, because that will help doctor to know what's overtook you, father."

He explained, but vaguely. She felt that he was in a great fever, and saw that his pain increased.

Presently, to her dismay, he refused to let her go.

"It's come over me that I'm finished," he said. "I believe and hope this may be the beginning of death, Auna. And if that's so, there's no need for you to leave me. I'd little like any other woman to close my eyes. But you must be patient. I'm going to be called to suffer a lot I expect."

For an hour she begged and he denied. Then, to her great joy, she saw a horseman creeping up over the moor in the morning sunshine.

She was sitting beside Jacob with her eyes on the window, when the tiny figure appeared, afar off.

"Father!" she said, "there's somebody coming up over!"

"Bid them be gone, then," he answered. "I only want you."

She left him a moment and ran down. As yet Auna could not tell that the rider was on his way to Huntingdon, but she meant to summon him if possible.

He headed for the Warren House, however, and, while yet he was half a mile distant, she recognised William Marydrew, on his iron-grey pony, and knew that he was coming to Jacob. Immense joy fired Auna at this sight. From an emotion of terrible dread and an inclination to believe that her father would die, she now leapt to hope. No doubt Billy would support her and insist on the doctor being fetched, while he kept the sick man company.

She ran to Jacob with the news.

"Be sure it was ordained for him to come, and it means you are to be saved, dear father," she declared.

At first he was sulky and wished William away.

"'Tis not like him to poke and pry," he said.

But when the old man appeared, proud of his feat in riding up to see them, Jacob welcomed him.

"Don't know which is the most wonderful--you, or your pony," said the sufferer. "Don't touch me, William. I'm in a flame, now cold, now hot, running through my bones; and my heart's beating like a hammer. Something gone wrong and my tongue fills my mouth. I'm hopeful it's the end. But Auna wants the doctor."

"Why, surely. You've catched a fever, Jacob. Put out your tongue. You can always tell by that member if a body's took fever."

Jacob's tongue was very yellow and Auna cried out at the colour. Then William took the girl beyond earshot of her father.

"Get on his horse, because it will go a lot quicker than mine, and go so fast as you safely can to Dr. Cousins. And tell him the symptoms. I don't know what's wrong, but 'tis something pretty large I'm fearing. His eyes roam like a frightened cow's."

Auna was thinking.

"We've got no side saddle, but I handled mother's old clothes only yesterday--her kennel-maid's clothes, which father always kept as a great treasure. Should you say I might put 'em on, or would it be wrong, Mr. Marydrew?"

"'Wrong!' Belike they was spared for this end! Get in 'em so fast as you can, and I'll saddle your hoss. Every five minutes may make a difference."

She returned to her father's room, where such of Margery's garments as he cherished were already stowed in a chest of drawers.

"I be going to get in dear mother's breeches, father, and ride down," she said; but he was talking to himself and did not hear her. She took the old, brown raiment and went to her room. When William had saddled Jacob's horse and brought it to the door, he hitched the bridle to a hook, set there for the purpose, and ascended again to his friend.

"She'll have a good ride," he said, "for the sun's shining and the wind's lost its edge. And I be going to bide with you, my dear, till she fetches back again."

The sufferer was lying on his back looking at the ceiling and deep in thought. He did not heed William's words, but began speaking quickly and coherently for a time.

"I'm glad you've come, because you can listen to what my life has been, William. And you can understand and tell people when I'm dead. No doubt you were prompted to come up for that purpose. If I can hold my mind on it, I'll tell you."

"Don't you fret your wits just now. Keep your strength to fight."

"It's the end, and I'm glad, and I'm glad that you were sent to hear, and nobody else."

He proceeded to attempt an account of his life, but could not. The fever had touched his mind and he rambled in a growing delirium from which no steadfast argument proceeded. William tried in vain to silence him, but he would talk and he had lost all hold on reality when Auna came in to see him before starting. She was tempted not to do so, yet a fear that he might pass away before she returned proved too great for her and she came.

"I'm off now, dear father. Be there anything more for me to remember?"

Bullstone started up and his eyes shone at her.

"Margery! There--I knew she couldn't be far off if I was ill. Don't you fret--it's nothing--just a pinch of poison caught somewhere. Put your cold hand on my head--that's right. Sit down, but don't touch my frame."

He tried to put his arm round her and groaned.

"'Tis like a red-hot knife turning in the elbow and wrist," he said. "Going for a run with the dogs? That's right. Mind the water. Oh, my God, when I saw her in Winter's arms, I thought I'd drop, William. Where's my mother? You'd best to call her to me."

"Let her go then," urged Billy. "Don't you keep her now, she's busy."

Auna rose, but Jacob called her back.

"Wait a minute. Where's my wits? We're married now. I don't want mother. I want you--only you. We're married, William. Damn it, old boy, you was at the wedding. Why are you in the kennel-maid's togs, Margery? I don't like that."

"Quite right," declared the old man, winking at Auna. "You get out of 'em, Mrs. Bullstone, so quick as you can. Let her go, Jacob."

"Not to Adam Winter--not to him."

"I'll come back ever so quick," promised Auna.

But a change had come over her father.

"I see it now. You're dead--you're dead, Margery. You've come because I'm going to die. She's dead, Billy. It was only a wishtness--standing there. She's gone!" he continued, as Auna slipped away. "Did you see her too?"

"I see her very plain and beautiful, Jacob; and don't you worry about it. All's well. Where there is Margery, there is hope--such a hopeful one as her. Just you bide so hopeful as you can and trust yourself to God."

"Didn't she have a message? Where did she come from? Oh, Christ, William, I'm in everlasting torture. Would God put a man in hell before he's dead?"

"Quiet then! Force yourself to lie still and listen to me. I'll do the talking."

"Give me something to drink."

He drank and then he began calling out for Margery.

"Why isn't she here? Where's her place but here? Curse the dogs. Aren't my sufferings more than all the dogs? There's a bit of flint in every woman's heart, and we married men are sure to bruise ourselves upon it soon or late. But I'd never have thought---- To put the blasted dogs before me!"

"She's working for you. She's gone for the doctor, because you're ill."

"The doctor liked her--Briggs, he liked her; but he hated me. I won't have him. He'd kill me."

"She's gone for Cousins--he's all right. He mended your leg, you mind."

Jacob sank into silence presently and the cuckoo clock below struck ten.

"Who's that calling, 'Margery,' 'Margery'? Who is it, William? Not Winter--not Adam Winter now I'm here powerless? I'll strangle him--God judge me--I'll strangle him with these hands so soon as my nature comes back to me!"

"He's all right. 'Tis only the cuckoo clock."

"I've often been tempted to crush it under my feet, William, when it jeered at me in the night season. I've laid awake and heard its cursed note--foul--foul--lecherous--and I've been hard put to it to remain in bed. But it was hers, and I respect all that is hers, though she doesn't respect all that is mine."

"The cuckoo bird means spring. Spring will soon be here, and I shall often ride up over to have a tell, Jacob."

"You're a very wise man; but it is easy to be wise when life goes straight!"

Jacob's mind had returned into the past. He said things that he had often thought.

"A great test of love, if a woman can put her husband's trade higher than her own pleasure and look at it with his eyes. Few do--few do. Margery felt her own life was more interesting than mine, and who shall blame her? We must be ourselves, William, and that's why marriage is a false contrivance. When the childer are come and the love has gone, it's only self-respect that keeps most pairs grinding on together. For character's deeper than love and we must be ourselves. I thought she liked dogs best in the world after me; but, in your ear alone, William, dogs are nothing to her now. She wants to be herself, and she thinks I won't let her; but if I am jealous of her, God is more jealous still. He takes her side against me, William. She's far more to Him than I am, because she believes in Him and I do not. Life can't be a happy thing for her any more--not while I'm alive. Yet for my honour I can't let her go free while I live. You see that, don't you?"

"Leave it, Jacob, and shut your mouth and try to get a bit of sleep. You must keep all your strength to fight the fever, I tell you."

"The old dog has run back to Red House. He wouldn't have gone if he'd thought I was going to live. He knows he'll be masterless presently, and so he's going to try and make new friends before it's too late. But all in vain. When I'm taken, they'll put him away. I stand between him and death. Fear will be on him when he hears Peter and George speak of me in the past--the fear of those that cumber the earth and know it."

"Could you let down a little more drink?"

The old man descended and brought some tea that Auna had left by the fire.

"We must see to some milk," he said. "You'll be called to sup a lot of milk I shouldn't wonder. Now I be going to light a fire in your chamber, because you'll have to keep warm for a long time."

Jacob talked for another hour, then became silent. A peat fire smouldered in his room and he fell asleep while William waited and watched.

Auna came back at last and the ancient went down to her.

"Dr. Cousins is on his way," she said, "and he is pretty sure from what I told him that father's got rheumatic fever; and since it has come on so fierce and sudden, he's a good bit afraid. We must put him in blankets and wrap his joints in cotton-wool. He'll bring physic, and he's going to send up a trained nurse to-morrow. I've fetched the cotton-wool and Peter will ride up so soon as he can with milk and eggs from Red House. Our cow was coming next week, but they'll drive it up sooner now."

"All to the good," declared William, "and you get in your petticoats. Best he don't see you in your mother's clothes again, because it works into his fever."

She obeyed; but when presently Jacob awoke and they got him into his blankets with great cost of pain, he still persisted in his illusion and regarded Auna as her mother. He was dwelling entirely in a time before his children had been born. They wrapped his joints in the warm cotton-wool and he grew calmer; but he would not let Auna out of his sight and spoke to her as a dying man to his wife.

"Everything is yours," he said. "Have no fear for the future; but my mother must be your first call. While she lives, Margery, put her first."

"So I will then," said the girl; "don't you fear. I'll take all care of her."

"A good mother and far-seeing. I wish I'd been a better son, Margery. Break it to her gently that I'm going. It's bound to be a shock. But she's had worse."

When the doctor came he spent an hour with Bullstone and gave him medicine that relieved him.

"It's going to be a short fight," he said to Auna presently. "We shall know in a very few days if he will live or die. An attack may last weeks, but in your father's case the turning point will be pretty soon. His lungs are all right and, so far, his heart. In young people the heart often fails under the sudden strain; but at your father's age, this may not happen. You must be hopeful, but not very hopeful, Auna. You'll do just as I say to-night, and Nurse Woolcombe will be up early to-morrow. Keep his mind at rest all you know. He may be quick to respond to the remedies. I think he will be; and, if he is, his pain will pretty soon be less. But he is older than his age and trouble has reduced his vitality. Don't cross him in anything; but make him take his medicine and the liquid food."

"D'you think he'll be spared, Dr. Cousins?" she asked.

"I won't answer that to-night. To-morrow, perhaps, I shall be better able to. Keep up your pluck. You used to do him more good than anybody when he broke his leg; and so you will again. He won't know people for a bit, I expect; and he may say all sorts of wild things while he's off his head; but you mustn't mind."

"He thinks I'm mother."

"Let him. Humour him and watch him like a hawk to-night. To-morrow, when nurse comes, you must turn in and have a long sleep. Mr. Marydrew's going to stop till to-morrow. Don't let him smoke in your father's room though. Now I must be off, or I shall lose myself."

He rode away just as Peter arrived on a pony with full baskets. The lad did not see his father, but learned all there was to know.

"He's going to die I should think," he said.

"Not if Auna and me can keep him alive," promised William, "and be it as 'twill, a few days must pass before doctor can settle. The fever took him like a tiger and he'll fall, or conquer, afore Sunday."

"Let John Henry and Avis know first thing to-morrow," begged Auna, and her brother promised to do so.

"Will you look at him? He's asleep for the minute."

But Peter declined.

"Can't help him for me to look at him," he said. "I'll get going. We'll send up some more milk and sago to-morrow and hurry 'em about the cow. Be the stove all right?"

"It is," she answered. "It works very well, now the wind's changed, and the fire-grate in his room draws very suent too."

An hour later Jacob woke in delirium. He shouted loudly and they hastened to him.

Fever had peopled the little chamber with monsters based on the real.

"Drive 'em out--where they belong! Drive 'em out--that flock of little women, with black wings and white faces and eyes as hard as stone! They're women--not birds, though they do fly and make the wind whistle, like a flock of starlings. A starling isn't much of a gentleman, but he'll get into heaven before they do--before the little women, because they're all on the pattern of Judith Huxam, the damned. You didn't know she was damned--did you? But I know it and hell knows it."

"Hush, Jacob--don't you talk foolishness," begged Billy; but the sick man knew him not. He turned to Auna.

"Can't you help me? Can't you do anything? If I move a finger it's like dipping it in molten fire. I'm burning alive, and my own wife won't put the flame out. God do so to you, Margery!"

William sighed.

"Us be going to have a parlous night with the poor man," he said. "When do he take his physic again?"

"Half after seven, Mr. Marydrew."

"Well, see if he'll lap a drop of milk. Thank God your dear father won't be violent except in words, Auna, because it hurts him a darned sight too much to move. We've got him there."

Jacob shouted and they saw that he was drowned in sweat. They ministered to him and presently he grew calmer again. After he had drunk the medicine, William stopped with him and Auna went down to prepare a meal. In another hour Jacob had become unconscious again and the girl and old man ate hastily together below.

"Us must face a stormy night, my dear," said William; "but 'twill pass, however long. Fetch up a good lot of peat, and keep the hot milk and the sago pudden down here; and trust me, if your eyes close, to be on the watch."

"They won't close," promised Auna.

"I've stopped the cuckoo clock," explained William, "because the noise vexed him. We'll be still as death to-night, for silence is physic in itself."

He ate and drank and she bade him take a stiff glass of spirits and water.

"You've done wonders, and I'll never forget it, and no more will father when he's well again," declared Auna. "You smoke your pipe now and have a rest down here, and I'll fetch up the easy, wicker chair, so you'll sit up there comfortable. But you mustn't smoke in his room, Mr. Marydrew."

She went out presently, to feed the ponies, while William lit his pipe, with an ear cocked lest the sufferer should wake.

"Dark and still, and a fox barking far ways off," said Auna when she returned.

Jacob did not wake till nearly midnight and then they wrestled with him for an hour, but made him take his food and physic. He was in agony, yet his mind seemed a little clearer and he restrained himself. Then fever dreams swept over him. Under the light of the shaded lamp, hidden in a corner, he could see his daughter, and still he believed her Margery; but Margery come from beyond the grave. He thought his wife's spirit was beside him and the belief acted as an anodyne.

"Say you've come for me! Say you've come for me! Say you are going to forgive me and fetch me home!" he cried. And then Auna saw that he wept; so she bent over him and wiped away his tears. Her own fell, too, and when he had lapsed again into insensibility, she crept away and sobbed silently in a corner. This happened in the dead of the night and William, despite his resolutions, was sound asleep beside the fire at the time. She was glad that he slept and had not seen her cry.

She pulled herself together and took heart, mended the fire and sat alert between the two unconscious men while the long night drained away.

Jacob did not waken until four o'clock, with a shout that brought William to his feet.

"Dang my old wig, if I haven't had forty winks," he said, "why for did you let me drop off, Auna?"