HILERIA PULLEN.
WHILE all this and a great deal more was going on in the nursery, in the George Inn, whose porch and sign you could see from the window in the moonlight, the vicar had walked upstairs and tapped at the door to which the chambermaid had conducted him. The doctor told him to come in.
There was now quite a little levee in the stranger’s room. Hileria Pullen was in bed. She was, in truth, neither young nor pretty, being somewhat yellow, and very sharp of feature. She looked woefully exhausted, and thought that she was dying. She lay making a straight, narrow ridge down the centre of a rather large four-poster. At the foot stood Mr. Turnbull, of the George, grave, bald, and florid, in a vast white waistcoat, a brass-buttoned blue coat, and a big bunch of watch-seals dangling on the paunch of his drab trousers. At the end of the bolster stood short, energetic Doctor Lincote, with his fingers on Hileria’s pulse, and his watch in the palm of his other hand. The vicar glided silently to the side of the pillow opposite the doctor, who, stuffing his watch into his fob, said with decision —
“Don’t mind your sensations, ma’am, you’re better. Glad to see you, Mr. Jenner. This is the vicar, ma’am. I hope we’ll disappoint him, ma’am. We’ll hardly ask for our viaticum yet, Mr. Vicar, ha, hey?”
“Glad to hear you say so, doctor. You’re in very safe hands, Mrs. Pullen. How do you feel, pray?”
“Jest gone, sir, please,” answered the patient querulously. The doctor winked across the bed to the vicar, to intimate that he was to take that announcement with a grain of allowance.
“And you remember you told Mr. Turnbull to let nobody into his inn; but that couldn’t be, you know; so you must be more precise, and say who you mean, do you see? and if you want to talk to him, you must take a glass of sherry first for I need not tell you, you are very much exhausted. I see she does wish to speak to you, Turnbull. Hand her a glass of sherry — hold it yourself to her lips, you’d better.”
And while the host was doing that congenial office, the doctor came round the bed and signed to the vicar, who followed him to the corner of the room next the window, and there in a whisper he said —
“A very hysterical subject, she is; in a high state of excitement, and utterly over-fatigued and exhausted. You may guess what that is; but there’s nothing at present to alarm.”
“You have been giving her ether,” said the vicar; “I smell it.”
“Very sharp — very sharp, Mr. Vicar; you know the leading medicines, and the leading cases. You have a very pretty notion of medicine; I often told you. She’s half mad with fright about some captain she says is pursuing her. By Jove! he must be a very hot-blooded fellow — eh?”
“I’m only a poor woman,” said the female voice in a quaver from the bed; “but you are gentlemen, and you’ll consider me all the same; and Captain Torquil is coming after me on account of that child — and he’s a dangerous man.” Here the doctor winked again at the vicar. “And my life would not be safe if his anger got the better of him; and you must not let him know or guess I’m here. If you do, you’ll have all to answer for.”
“No, my good woman, you may rely upon it. Of course, Turnbull, she may depend upon you. Make your mind quite easy, upon my honour you may,” said the doctor. And aside to the vicar he whispered —
“Did you ever, in all your days, see a poor creature in such a terror? I really believe, if he got into the room, ’twould either kill her outright, or put her out of her reason.”
“Poor thing! it is most pitiable,” said the vicar.
“And oh, sir, is the child safe?”
“Quite, my good woman,” answered the vicar, drawing near.
“And in your house, sir?”
“In my house,” answered he.
“And if you give it up, may you be judged.”
“Now, my good woman, you must not be trying to sit up; don’t you see you’re not equal to it?” said the doctor. “Compose yourself for to-night, and in the morning you may talk as long as you like.”
“I shan’t live to see the morning, sir. May the Lord have mercy, and forgive my sins,” she answered in an agony. “And now, sir, parson Jenner, give me the holy sacrament to my comfort, and pray for me, as you hope for mercy yourself, when you come to this dreadful hour.”