Morning light was streaming into the room when one of these swoons had
fallen on her, and no means of restoration availed to bring her back to
anything but a gasping condition, in which she lay supported in Rachel's
arms. The doctor had his hand on her pulse, the only sounds outside
were the twittering of the birds, and within, the ticking of the clock,
Alick's deep-drawn breaths, and his uncle's prayer. Rachel felt a thrill
pass through the form she was supporting, she looked at Mr. Harvey,
and understood his glance, but neither moved till Mr. Clare's voice
finished, when the doctor said, "I feared she would have suffered much
more. Thank God!"
He gently relieved Rachel from the now lifeless weight, and they knelt
on for some moments in complete stillness, except that Alick's breath
became more laboured, and his shuddering and shivering could no longer
be repressed. Rachel was excessively terrified to perceive that his
whole frame was trembling like an aspen leaf. He rose, however, bent to
kiss his sister's brow, and steadying himself by the furniture, made for
the door. The others followed him, and in a few rapid words Rachel was
assured that her fears were ungrounded, it was only an attack of his old
Indian fever, which was apt to recur on any shock, but was by no means
alarming, though for the present it must be given way to. Indeed, his
teeth were chattering too much for him to speak intelligibly, when he
tried to tell Rachel to rest and not think of him.
This of course was impossible, and the sun had scarcely risen, before he
was placed in his old quarters, the bed in the little inner study, and
Rachel watched over him while Mr. Clare had driven off with the doctor
to await the awakening of Lord Keith.
Rachel had never so much needed strength. It was hard to believe the
assurances of Alick, the doctor, and the whole house, that his condition
was not critical, for he was exceedingly ill for some hours, the ailment
having been coming on all night, though it was forced back by the
resolute will, and it was aggravated by the intensity of his grief,
which on the other hand broke forth the more violently from the failure
of the physical powers. The brother and sister had been so long alone
in the world together, and with all her faults she had been so winning,
that it was a grievous loss to him, coming too in the full bloom of her
beauty and prosperity, when he was conscious of having dealt severely
with her foibles. All was at an end--that double thread of brilliant
good-nature and worldly selfishness, with the one strand of sound
principle sometimes coming into sight. The life was gone from the
earth in its incompleteness, without an unravelling of its complicated
texture, and the wandering utterances that revealed how entirely the
brother stood first with her, added poignancy to his regret for
having been harsh with her. It could hardly be otherwise than that his
censures, however just, should now recoil upon him, and in vain did
Rachel try to point out that every word of his sister's had proved that
her better sense had all along acquiesced--he only felt what it might
have been if he had been more indulgent and less ironical, and gave
himself infinitely harder measure than he ever could have shown to her.
It was long before the suffering, either mental or bodily, by any means
abated, and Rachel felt extremely lonely, deserted, and doubtful whether
she were in any way ministering to his relief, but at last a gleam of
satisfaction came upon her. He evidently did like her attendance on him,
and he began to say something about Bessie's real love and esteem for
her--softer grief was setting in, and the ailment was lessening.