you nearest?'
'Godfrey's Cordial, sir,' quickly suggested the nurse.
'Ay--anything to save time--she is sinking for want of the drug that has--' He broke off to apportion the dose, and to hold the child in a position to administer it--Flora tried to give it--the nurse tried-- in vain.
'Do not torment her further,' said the doctor, as Flora would have renewed the trial--'it cannot be done. What have you all been doing?' cried he, as, looking up, his face changed from the tender compassion with which he had been regarding his little patient, into a look of strong indignation, and one of his sentences of hasty condemnation broke from him, as it would not have done, had Flora been less externally calm. 'I tell you this child has been destroyed with opium!'
They all recoiled; the father turned fiercely round on the nurse, with a violent exclamation, but Dr. May checked him. 'Hush! This is no presence for the wrath of man.' The solemn tone seemed to make George shrink into an awestruck quiescence; he stood motionless and transfixed, as if indeed conscious of some overwhelming presence.
Flora had come near, with an imploring gesture, to take the child in her own arms; but Dr. May, by a look of authority, prevented it; for, indeed, it would have been harassing and distressing the poor little sufferer again to move her, as she lay with feeble gasps on his arm.
So they remained, for what space no one knew--not one word was uttered, not a limb moved, and the street noises sounded far off.
Dr. May stooped his head closer to the babe's face, and seemed listening for a breath, as he once more touched the little wrist; he took away his finger, he ceased to listen, he looked up.
Flora gave one cry--not loud, not sharp, but 'an exceeding bitter cry'--she would have moved forward, but reeled, and her husband's arms supported her as she sank into a swoon.
'Carry her to her room,' said Dr. May. 'I will come;' and, when George had borne her away, he kissed the lifeless cheek, and reverently placed the little corpse in the cradle; but, as he rose from doing so, the sobbing nurse exclaimed, 'Oh, sir! oh, sir! indeed, I never did--'
'Never did what?' said Dr. May sternly.
'I never gave the dear baby anything to do her harm,' cried Preston vehemently.
'You gave her this,' said Dr. May, pointing to the bottle of Godfrey's Cordial.
He could say no more, for her master was hurrying back into the room. Anger was the first emotion that possessed him, and he hardly gave an answer to Dr. May's question about Flora. 'Meta is with her! Where is that woman? Have you given her up to the police?'
Preston shrieked and sobbed, made incoherent exclamations, and was much disposed to cling to the doctor.
'Silence!' said Dr. May, lifting his hand, and assuming a tone and manner that awed them both, by reminding them that death was present in the chamber; and, taking his son-in-law out, and shutting the door, he said, in a low voice,
'I believe this is no case for the police--have mercy on the poor woman.'
'Mercy--I'll have no mercy on my child's murderer! You said she had destroyed my child.'
'Ignorantly.'
'I don't care for ignorance! She destroyed her--I'll have justice,' said George doggedly.
'You shall,' said Dr. May, laying his hand on his arm; 'but it must be investigated, and you are in no state to investigate. Go downstairs--do not do anything till I come to you.'
His peremptory manner imposed on George, who, nevertheless, turned round as he went, saying, with a fierce glare in his eyes, 'You will not let her escape.'
'No. Go down--be quiet.'
Dr. May returned to Preston, and had to assure her that Mr. Rivers was not gone to call the police, before he could bring her to any degree of coherence. She regarded him as her only friend, and soon undertook to tell the whole truth, and he perceived that it was, indeed, the truth. She had not known that the cordial was injurious, deeming it a panacea against fretfulness, precious to nurses, but against which ladies always had a prejudice, and, therefore, to be kept secret. Poor little Leonora had been very fretful and uneasy when Flora's many avocations had first caused her to be set aside, and Preston had had recourse to the remedy which, lulling her successfully, was applied with less moderation and judgment than would have been shown by a more experienced person, till gradually the poor child became dependent on it for every hour of rest. When her mother, at last, became aware of her unsatisfactory condition, and spent her time in watching her, the nurse being prevented from continuing her drug, she was, of course, so miserable without it, that Preston had ventured on proposing it, to which Mrs. Rivers had replied with displeasure sufficient to prevent her from declaring how much she had previously given. Preston was in an agony of distress for her little charge, as well as of fear for herself, and could hardly understand what her error had been. Dr. May soon saw that, though not highly principled, her sorrow was sincere, and that she still wept bitterly over the consequences of her treatment, when he told her that she had nothing to fear from the law, and that he would protect her from Mr. Rivers.
Her confession was hardly over when Meta knocked at the door, pale and frightened. 'Oh, Dr. May, do come to poor Flora! I don't know what to do, and George is in such a state!'
Dr. May made a sound of sorrow and perplexity, and Meta, as she went down before him, asked, in a low, horror-stricken whisper, 'Did Preston really--'
'Not knowingly,' said Dr. May. 'It is the way many children have gone; but I never thought--'
They had come to Flora's dressing-room. Her bedroom door was open, and George was pacing heavily up and down the length of both apartments, fiercely indignant. 'Well!' said he, advancing eagerly on Dr. May, 'has she confessed?'
'But Flora!' said Dr. May, instead of answering him. Flora lay on her bed, her face hidden on her pillow, only now and then moaning.
'Flora, my poor, poor child!' said her father, bending down to raise her, and taking her hand.
She moved away, so as to bury her face more completely; but there was life in the movement, and he was sufficiently reassured on her situation to be able to attend to George, who was only impatient to rush off to take his revenge. He led him into the outer room, where Meta was waiting, and forced upon his unwilling conviction that it was no case for the law. The child had not been killed by any one dose, but had rather sunk from the want of stimulus, to which she had been accustomed. As to any pity for the woman, George would not hear of it. She was still, in his eyes, the destroyer of bis child; and, when he found the law would afford him no vengeance, he insisted that she should be turned out of his house at once.
'George!' called a hollow voice from the next room, and hurrying back, they saw Flora sitting up, and, as well as trembling limbs allowed, endeavouring to rise to her feet, while burning spots were in her cheeks.
'George, turn me out of the house too! If Preston killed her, I did!' and she gave a ghastly laugh.
George threw his arms round her, and laid her on her bed again, with many fond words, and strength which she had not power to withstand. Dr. May, in the meantime, spoke quickly to Meta in the doorway. 'She must go. They cannot see her again; but has she any friends in London?'
'I think not.'
'Find out. She must not be sent adrift. Send her to the Grange, if nothing better offers. You must judge.'
He felt that he could confide in Meta's discretion and promptitude, and returned to the parents.
'Is she gone?' said George, in a whisper, which he meant should be unheard by his wife, who had sunk her face in her pillows again.
'Going. Meta is seeing to it.'
'And that woman gets off free!' cried George, 'while my poor little girl--' and, no longer occupied by the hope of retribution, he gave way to an overpowering burst of grief.
His wife did not rouse herself to comfort him, but still lay motionless, excepting for a convulsive movement that passed over her frame at each sound from him, and her father felt her pulse bound at the same time with corresponding violence, as if each of his deep- drawn sobs were a mortal thrust. Going to him, Dr. May endeavoured to repress his agitation, and lead him from the room; but he could not, at first, prevail on him to listen or understand, still less, to quit Flora. The attempt to force on him the perception that his uncontrolled sorrow was injuring her, and that he ought to bear up for her sake, only did further harm; for, when he rose up and tried to caress her, there was the same torpid, passive resistance, the same burying her face from the light, and the only
