Scarlet-fever it proved to be; not a mild form of it; and in a very few hours Lord Elster was in great danger, the throat being chiefly affected.  The house was in commotion; the dowager worse than any one in it.  A complication of fears beset her:  first, terror for her own safety, and next, the less abject dread that death might remove her grandchild.  In this latter fear she partly lost her personal fears, so far at any rate as to remain in the house; for it seemed to her that the child would inevitably die if she left it.  Late in the afternoon she rushed into the presence of the doctors, who had just been holding a second consultation.

Sir Alexander Pepps recommended leeches to the throat:  Mr. Brook disapproved of them.  “It is the one chance for his life,” said Sir Alexander.

“It is removing nearly all chance,” said Mr. Brook.

Sir Alexander prevailed; and when they came forth it was understood that leeches were to be applied.  But here Lady Hartledon stepped in.

“I dread leeches to the throat, Sir Alexander, if you will forgive me for saying so.  I have twice seen them applied in scarlet-fever; and the patients—­one a young lady, the other a child—­in both cases died.”

“Madam, I have given my opinion,” curtly returned the physician.  “They are necessary in Lord Elster’s case.”

“Do you approve of leeches?” cried Lady Hartledon, turning to Mr. Brook.

“Not altogether,” was the cautious answer.

“Answer me one question, Mr. Brook,” said Lady Hartledon, in her earnestness.  “Would you apply these leeches were you treating the case alone?”

“No, madam, I would not.”

Anne appealed to her husband.  When the medical men differed, she thought the decision lay with him.

“I’m sure I don’t know,” returned Val, who felt perfectly helpless to advise.  “Can’t you decide, Anne?  You know more about children and illness than I do.”

“I would do so without hesitating a moment were it my own child,” she replied.  “I would not allow them to be put on.”

“No, you would rather see him die,” interrupted the dowager, who overheard the words, and most intemperately and unjustifiably answered them.

Anne coloured with shame for the old woman, but the words silenced her:  how was it possible to press her own opinion after that?  Sir Alexander had it all his own way, and the leeches were applied on either side the throat, Mr. Brook emphatically asserting in Lady Hartledon’s private ear that he “washed his hands” of the measure.  Before they came off the consequences were apparent; the throat was swollen outwardly, on both sides; within, it appeared to be closing.

The dowager, rather beside herself on the whole, had insisted on the leeches.  Any one, seeing her conduct now, might have thought the invalid boy was really dear to her.  Nothing of the sort.  A hazy idea had been looming through her mind for years that Val was not strong; she had been mistaking mental disease for bodily illness; and a project to have full control of her grandchild, should he come into the succession prematurely, had coloured her dreams.  This charming prospect would be ignominiously cut short if the boy went first.