doom pronounced and nothing, nothing at all, done for his recovery."
"But it is a comfort, it is a sort of comfort at least to know that the child may live, Kitty," said Stanhope. "At least that brute of a Charlie Stanhope will be cut out."
"Who cares about that?" she said, stamping her foot. "Mr. Parsons has gone, having done nothing. Dr. Halifax, have you no measures to propose for the child's relief?"
"There is an operation which Fieldman might perform," I began at once.
"Fieldman!" she interrupted. "I have heard of him. He is a very great surgeon, indeed." Her eyes began to blaze with renewed hope.
"You would like Mr. Fieldman to be sent for, Dr. Halifax?"
"Yes," I replied; "but Hal here thinks otherwise."
Stanhope suddenly stood up. He put one arm round his wife and drew her to his side.
"This is the state of the case, Kitty," he said. "Parsons has pronounced the boy fairly safe as far as life is concerned; his intellect will be impaired, of course, but we cannot go into that point at the present moment. The main and most important fact is that the boy will live. Now, Halifax knows of an operation, which, if successful, would save his intellect."
"Ah! then it must be done," said Kitty Stanhope.
"Listen to me, my darling," said her husband. "Parsons thinks the operation will kill the boy. He does not wish it to be attempted. We must not risk it, my love."
"We must," she repeated. "There are no two questions in the matter. The operation must be attempted.'
"Not at the risk of the boy's life. What can you be dreaming about, Kitty?"
"Do you call the existence you have just spoken of life?" she retorted, with sudden passion. "I love the child. He is my only one. He is my treasure beyond price. But I don't care to bestow such a life as Mr. Parsons spoke of on him. Better, far better, let him die. We will risk the operation."
"Kitty, you forget that brute Charlie Stanhope."
"I do," she answered, promptly. "He is nothing to me. As far as I am concerned he does not exist. Chartelpool is nothing to me. The boy—the boy with his bright spirit unclouded, either here or with the angels, that is everything. Hal, I beg of you to allow the operation to be performed."
"Kitty, my darling, I cannot. The risk is too tremendous. I cannot consent to its being run."
Stanhope was making a great effort to speak quietly; but there was a suppressed fire in his manner which I had never before witnessed.
"Leave us for a little, Dr. Halifax," said Mrs. Stanhope, flashing a quick glance at me.
I went out of the room and upstairs to the child's nursery. Eliot was seated by the bed. The beautiful little marble figure lay there stretched out, flat and still, motionless as though he were his own effigy on a tombstone.
"I wish to God," I said, as I glanced at him, "that I had brought Fieldman down! I am sure Fieldman would have attempted to trephine, and so relieve the pressure. I am certain Parsons is wrong with regard to the spot where the injury exists. As it is, Harold Stanhope has taken fright and will not permit any risk to be run."
"It would be highly dangerous, I have no doubt," said Eliot.
"I agree with the mother," I retorted. "The mother would risk the operation. I admire her pluck beyond words."
I had a little further conversation with Eliot and then left the room. I was standing in the outer nursery when Mrs. Stanhope entered and passed me swiftly by without even bestowing a glance upon me. The intense marble calm of her face was broken. It was now disfigured by the marks of tears. I saw that she had been crying bitterly. She re-entered the boy's room and I went downstairs.
Neither Hal nor I thought of going to bed, although, after a time, he lay down on the sofa and slept heavily until the morning. I shall never forget the leaden weight, the awful tedium of the day which followed. I had promised to remain with Stanhope until that miserable apology for life which Parsons. anticipated returned to the child.
There was no change whatever—no touch of returning consciousness during the long hours of this day. The deep insensibility in which the little fellow lay was absolutely unbroken. To an inexperienced eye it must almost have seemed as if the boy's spirit had already fled. All day long Mrs. Stanhope remained by his side. What little she ate or drank was taken there. She had completely recovered her still composure. Her calm was marvellous, although now and then I noticed that her lips moved as if she were praying about something. Once, towards evening, she followed me out of the nursery.
