When Dr Thorne reached Boxall Hill he found Mr Rerechild from Barchester there before him. Poor Lady Scatcherd, when her husband was stricken by the fit, hardly knew in her dismay what adequate steps to take. She had, as a matter of course, sent for Dr Thorne; but she had thought it so grave a peril that the medical skill of no one man could suffice. It was, she knew, quite out of the question for her to invoke the aid of Dr Fillgrave, whom no earthly persuasion could have brought to Boxall Hill; and as Mr Rerechild was supposed in the Barchester world to be second--though at a long interval--to that great man, she had applied for his assistance.
Now Mr Rerechild was a follower and humble friend of Dr Fillgrave; and was wont to regard anything that came from the Barchester doctor as sure as light from the lamp of Aesculapius. He could not therefore be other than an enemy of Dr Thorne. But he was a prudent, discreet man, with a long family, averse to professional hostilities, as knowing that he could make more by medical friends than medical foes, and not at all inclined to take up any man's cudgel to his own detriment. He had, of course, heard of that dreadful affront which had been put upon his friend, as had all the 'medical world'--and all the medical world at least of Barsetshire; and he had often expressed sympathy with Dr Fillgrave and his abhorrence of Dr Thorne's anti-professional practices. But now that he found himself about to be brought in contact with Dr Thorne, he reflected that the Galen of Greshamsbury was at any rate equal in reputation to him of Barchester; that the one was probably on the rise, whereas the other was already considered by some as rather antiquated; and he therefore wisely resolved that the present would be an excellent opportunity for him to make a friend of Dr Thorne.
Poor Lady Scatcherd had an inkling that Dr Fillgrave and Mr Rerechild were accustomed to row in the same boat, and she was not altogether free from fear that there might be an outbreak. She therefore took an opportunity before Dr Thorne's arrival to deprecate any wrathful tendency.
'Oh, Lady Scatcherd! I have the greatest respect for Dr Thorne,' said he; 'the greatest possible respect; a most skilful practitioner--something brusque, certainly, and perhaps a little obstinate. But what then? we have all our faults, Lady Scatcherd.'
'Oh--yes; we all have, Mr Rerechild; that's a certain.'
'There's my friend Fillgrave--Lady Scatcherd. He cannot bear anything of that sort. Now I think he's wrong; and so I tell him.' Mr Rerechild was in error here; for he had never yet ventured to tell Dr Fillgrave that he was wrong in anything. 'We must bear and forbear, you know. Dr Thorne is an excellent man--in his way very excellent, Lady Scatcherd.'
This little conversation took place after Mr Rerechild's first visit to his patient: what steps were immediately taken for the relief of the sufferer we need not describe. They were doubtless well intended, and were, perhaps, as well adapted to stave off the coming evil day as any that Dr Fillgrave, or even the great Sir Omicron Pie might have used.
And then Dr Thorne arrived.
'Oh, doctor! doctor!' exclaimed Lady Scatcherd, almost hanging round his neck in the hall. 'What are we to do? What are we to do? He's very bad.'
'Has he spoken?'
'No; nothing like a word: he has made one or two muttered sounds; but, poor soul, you could make nothing of it--oh, doctor! doctor! he has never been like this before.
It was easy to see where Lady Scatcherd placed any such faith as she might still have in the healing art. 'Mr Rerechild is here and has seen him,' she continued. 'I thought it best to send for two, for fear of accidents. He has done something--I don't know what. But, doctor, do tell the truth now; I look to you to tell me the truth.'
Dr Thorne went up and saw his patient; and had he literally complied with Lady Scatcherd's request, he might have told her at once that there was no hope. As, however, he had not the heart to do this, he mystified the case as doctors so well know how to do, and told her that 'there was cause to fear, great cause for fear; he was sorry to say, very great cause for much fear.'
Dr Thorne promised to stay the night there, and, if possible, the following night also; and then Lady Scatcherd became troubled in her mind as to what she should do with Mr Rerechild. He also declared, with much medical humanity, that, let the inconvenience be what it might, he too would stay the night. 'The loss,' he said, 'of such a man as Sir Roger Scatcherd was of such paramount importance as to make other matters trivial. He would certainly not allow the whole weight to fall on the shoulders of his friend Dr Thorne: he also would stay at any rate that night by the sick man's bedside. By the following morning some change might be excpected.'
'I say, Dr Thorne,' said her ladyship, calling the doctor into the housekeeping-room, in which she and Hannah spent any time that they were not required upstairs; 'just come in, doctor: you wouldn't tell him we don't want him no more, could you?'
'Tell whom?' said the doctor.
'Why--Mr Rerechild: mightn't he go away, do you think?'
Dr Thorne explained that Mr Rerechild might go away if he pleased; but that it would by no means be proper for one doctor to tell another to leave the house. And so Mr Rerechild was allowed to share the glories of the night.
In the meantime the patient remained speechless; but it soon became evident that Nature was using all her efforts to make one final rally.
From time to time he moaned and muttered as though he was conscious, and it seemed as though he strove to speak. He gradually became awake, at any rate to suffering, and Dr Thorne began to think that the last scene would be postponed for yet a while longer.
'Wonderful constitution--eh, Dr Thorne? wonderful!' said Mr Rerechild.
'Yes; he has been a strong man.'
'Strong as a horse, Dr Thorne. Lord, what that man would have been if he had given himself a chance! You know his constitution of course.'
