Volume I Part 46 (1/2)
”Is he in danger?”
”I believe so; here's what my wife says. Oh, I haven't got the letter about me, but it comes to this, I was to send down one of the best doctors by the first train, telling him it was a case of compression or concussion, which is it? And so I have despatched Beattie, your grandfather's man. I suppose there 's no better?”
”But why have you not gone back yourself? He was a friend, was he not?”
”Yes, he was what people would call a friend. I 'm like the hare in the fable, I have many friends; but if I must be confidential, I 'll tell you why I did _not_ go. I had a notion, just as likely to be wrong as right, that the Chief would take offence at his Registrar being a sporting character, and that if I were to absent myself just now, he'd find out the reason, whereas by staying here I could keep all quiet, and when Beattie came back I could square _him_.”
”You could what?”
”A thousand pardons for my bit of slang; but the fact is, just as one talks French when he wants to say nothings, one takes to slang when one requires to be s.h.i.+fty. I meant to say, I could manage to make the doctor hold his tongue.”
”Not if grandpapa were to question him.”
Sewell smiled, and shook his head in dissent.
”No, no. You're quite mistaken in Dr. Beattie; and what's more, you 're quite mistaken in grandpapa too, if you imagine that he 'll think the better of you for forgetting the claims of friends.h.i.+p.”
”There was none.”
”Well, of humanity, then! It was in _your_ cause this man suffered, and it is in _your_ house he lies ill. I think you ought to be there also.”
”Do you think so?”
”I 'm sure of it. You know the world a great deal better than I do, and you can tell what people will say of your absence; but I think it requires no knowledge of more than one's own nature to feel what is right and proper here.”
”Indeed!” said he, reflectingly.
”Don't you agree with me?”
”Perhaps,--that is, in part. I suppose what you mean about the world is, that there will be some scandal afloat, the 'young wife' story, and all that sort of balderdash?”
”I really do not understand you.”
”You don't?”
”No. Certainly not. What do you mean?”
”Possibly you did not understand me. Well, if I am to go, there 's no time to be lost. It's four o'clock already, and the last train leaves at five-forty. I will go.”
”You are quite right.”
”You 'll make my excuses to the Chief. You 'll tell him that my wife's message was so alarming that I could not delay my departure. Beattie will probably be back tomorrow, and bring you news of us.”
”Won't you write a few lines?”
”I 'm not sure,--I 'll not promise. I'm a bad penman, but my wife will write, I 've no doubt. Say all sorts of affectionate and dutiful things to the Chief for me; tell him I went away in despair at not being able to say good-bye; he likes that style of thing, does n't he?”
”I don't think he cares much for 'that style of thing,'” said she, with a saucy smile.
”What a capital mimic you are! Do you know I am just beginning to suspect that you are, for all your quiet simplicity of manner, a deuced deep one. Am I right?”