"The Colonel had one of these attacks a long time ago. It was then that Mr. Guy said he was to have stuff with him-told me I was to see it was always handy," Mackerley gasped as he hurried across the room and fumbled with desperate speed in the bureau drawer. "This is what Mr. Guy gave me-these things and that syringe."
"That's excellent-now where can I boil up this syringe?" In a few minutes Felicity was back with the sterile hypodermic and while injecting the coramine, she gave Mackerley instructions. "Ring St. Edwin's and ask for Dr. Fraser- of course you'll explain who it's for-ask him to come as soon as he can."
This seemed to Felicity only a continuation of the nightmare in which she had existed since that afternoon. Dr. Fraser was quick to arrive, but even with his presence the anxiety persisted and she knew from his expression that he was seriously concerned with the patient's grey, drawn features and his racing pulse.
"You'll stay with him, won't you?" Dr. Fraser asked het as he prepared to leave. "Anyway, until Mr. Brenton gets back and can make other arrangements. I wish I could have waited for him myself, but tell him, will you, that I had to get back to Hospital. I'll look in again in the morning. There is nothing more I can do now, repeat the injection in an hour if he needs it. Lucky you were here, Nurse, very lucky," he repeated as he took his hat and gloves from the hall table. "I'll get the oxygen sent along as soon as I can. I've heard from Mr. Brenton what an excellent nurse you are and how well you looked after him when he was warded. I certainly compliment you upon your clear sightedness tonight."
Refusing Mackerley's anxious request that she should at least take some refreshment before returning to her patient, Felicity went back immediately to his room where she kept a constant vigil. The prompt arrival of oxygen gave her something definite to do and so intent was she in watching and attending to the slightest change in the Colonel's condition that she was scarcely aware of the passing hours. There was one moment when, cradling his head against her arm to adjust a pillow, she believed herself back in the small room at the end of John Mason Ward, the resemblance between father and son had never before appeared so marked, but with a sigh she quickly returned to the present and to the disturbing fact that never again would Guy lean upon her for support. That evening had left her no more illusions and it was as if she had held out her arms only to let them drop to her sides, empty and disregarded. She wouldn't be going to California now, it would have been hypocritical to pretend she minded, but she knew that she could no longer remain at St. Edwin's. She would let her notice stand and within a few days her association with the Hospital-and with Guy Brenton-would cease forever. Instinctively she knew that it would be better so, for although his illness and erstwhile dependence had brought about a close friendship and intimacy, she had now come to the cross roads. It had never been necessary before to face the issue, his marriage and her coming departure from England had been an inevitable end, but it was no longer easy to evade the truth; imperceptibly Guy had replaced the image of Peter in her heart. That girlhood love had only served to strengthen the deep and overwhelming emotion which now held her in thrall.
For a long time her patient's slow and laboured breathing was the only sound in the darkened room. Then she became aware of Guy's presence as he crossed the room towards her.
The one shaded lamp cast a pool of light where it stood, but the rest of the room was dim and shadowed. She could scarcely discern his features as he leaned over his father and the quiet restraint of his movements gave no indication of the shock he must be suffering. In low tones she gave him Dr. Fraser's report, then her own observations of the patient's condition. His response had been monosyllabic and sometimes a mere nod of understanding, then, straightening up, he turned towards the door.
"Father will be all right for the moment, the pulse is settling. Mackerley can stay with him while you come and have some food." He placed an arm firmly beneath her elbow and led her from the room.
Felicity hadn't realized how tired she was. She had lost all sense of time and had quite forgotten that she had eaten nothing since her early lunch at Hospital. The bright light of the corridor was dazzling after the dimness of the sickroom. It seemed to make her head swim and it was only when they reached the lounge and she had dropped gratefully into a deep arm-chair that she realized the lateness of the hour. The sunray clock above the fireplace had struck midnight as they entered.
"Was that twelve? I had no idea it was so late." She made an involuntary gesture to rise again, but Guy forestalled her by placing a hand on her shoulder.
"Sit down and rest-Mrs. Mackerley is bringing you something to eat, you look tired out. You don't think I'm going to let you leave until you are rested, do you?"
"But I haven't even a late pass." Felicity spoke with concern not untinged with fear. Respect for authority was too deeply imbued within her after her years in Hospital to treat lightly of such matters.
"You'll stay where you are." His tone was firm and brooked no further argument. "I'll ring Hospital right away and explain what's happened."
The offer cleared Felicity's mind of further doubts and with a sigh of relief she sank back in the chair, and half closing her eyes gave herself up to the luxury of relaxation. Her head was still swimming, she couldn't remember ever being more tired; it was hardly surprising, she reminded herself, since she had been on duty until four that afternoon and all the conflicting and exhausting emotions she had passed through since then had been sufficient to shatter anyone.
It wasn't until Mrs. Mackerley wheeled in a trolley loaded with sandwiches, appetizing little cakes and biscuits, and carrying with it the intoxicating aroma of hot coffee, that she realized how famished she was and when a few moments later Guy returned from the telephone she needed no persuasion to partake of that most enticing spread.
She felt it was only in order to put her at her ease that he also poured for himself some coffee and put a sandwich on his plate. He made a pretence of sharing the meal, but Felicity could see that he was barely aware of his actions, and although he sipped at his cup, the food remained untouched. Beyond the few conventional remarks demanded of him, he had scarcely spoken. He was prone to moods of detachment, she knew that only too well, but his present withdrawn attitude was born of something far deeper than mere moodiness. She suffered again that longing to be of help; now no longer restrained by her loyalty to Alaine she felt an almost unbearable desire to cross to his side and pour out all the sympathy which filled her heart.
"I'm deeply grateful to you-for all you have done this evening-words seem very inadequate. I can only assure you of their sincerity."
Felicity looked up quickly to meet his eyes as they sought hers. Their expression reflected his words and she could only return him a tremulous smile of understanding.
"I believe my father will be all right now-thanks to you-it will be a few days before he can be moved, then I'll get him back to Buckinghamshire as soon as possible. He'll be better there, but I'm afraid it will mean he'll have to take things pretty quietly in the future."
"He'll certainly be better at Weir," Felicity agreed. "It's not far, he could go by ambulance." She put down her cup and wiped her fingers on a serviette. "I ought to be getting back to Hospital."
"I've explained what's happened, there is no hurry and I am wondering whether you would prefer to stay here tonight-I know you have nothing with you but it might be less tiring than going back."
The prospect of staying certainly had its attraction, it would not only save the journey but also the inevitable hanging about and arguments which might arise since she had no late pass. While she still hesitated and perhaps sensing her doubts, Guy went on speaking.
"It's nearly one o'clock, why not get straight to bed. I shall sit with my father tonight. St. Edwin's is sending along a nurse in the morning." He took his pipe from his pocket and began to fill it, pressing down the tobacco with his injured hand with comparative ease. Before applying a match he looked up and continued speaking. "You leave Hospital pretty soon, don't you? Will you be returning with your brother-or-now perhaps you have other plans?"