The Silver Bullet by Fergus Hume — Read

For the next week or so, Herrick had his hands full. Mrs. Marsh grew rapidly worse, and several times nearly slipped through his fingers. But the doctor's skill, Petronella's nursing, and above all the indomitable determination of Mrs. Marsh not to die, enabled her to turn the corner. She became much better, but still suffered from racking pains. At times Herrick gave her morphia, but did so sparingly. From Petronella he learned that she had taken chloral for years past, and feared that if she gained a taste for morphia she might take to it instead of the weaker drug. For Stephen's sake, Jim could not let that happen.

Never had Herrick had so unruly a patient. He did not wonder that she had quarrelled with all the Beorminster doctors. The wonder was that she had a friend left. Her temper was ungovernable, and she fought Herrick on every point that did not chime in with her inclinations. In spite of the fact that he was attending her out of sheer kindness, and had intimated to Stephen that he expected no fee, Mrs. Marsh abused him virulently whenever she felt so inclined. But then she abused everyone, even Petronella, who was her slave. As to Stephen, devoted as he was to her, she could not find words bad enough for him sometimes. He was a fool, a ninny, a milksop, he lived upon her charity, etc., etc. Yet there were times when the young man was all that was good in her eyes. Even Herrick came in for his share of praise at odd moments.