"She is very ill, indeed, sir," he answered, "but I have given directions which perhaps---"
"Perhaps!" interrupted Delvile, shuddering, "do not stab me with such a word!"
"She is very delirious," he continued, "but as her fever is very high, that is not so material. If the orders I have given take effect, and the fever is got under, all the rest will be well of course."
He then went away; leaving Delvile as much thunderstruck by answers so alarming, as if he had consulted him in full hope, and without even suspicion of her danger.
The moment he recovered from this shock, he flew out of the house for more advice.
He returned and brought with him two physicians. They confirmed the directions already given, but would pronounce nothing decisively of her situation.
Delvile, half mad with the acuteness of his misery, charged them all with want of skill, and wrote instantly into the country for Dr Lyster.
He went out himself in search of a messenger to ride off express, though it was midnight, with his letter; and then, returning, he was hastening to her room, but, while yet at the door, hearing her still raving, his horror conquered his eagerness, and, hurrying down stairs, he spent the remnant of the long and seemingly endless night in the shop.