Part 17 (1/2)

”Do you live near this?” he asked.

”Yes, quite near.”

”May I bring you some papers giving you an account of my poor old women?”

”I should like so much to have them,” said Katherine. ”But my uncle is rather peculiar. He does not like to be disturbed; he does not like visitors; he was vexed because my sister-in-law and the children came to-day.”

”I understand, and will not intrude. But should you be able and willing to help these undertakings, Colonel Ormonde will always know my address.

He honors me still with his friends.h.i.+p, though he thinks me a moon-struck idiot.”

”Because you are good. The folly is his,” said Katherine, warmly. Then she bowed, Mr. Payne lifted his hat again, and they parted, not to meet for many a day.

When Mrs. Knapp opened the door she looked rather grave, but Katherine's mind was so full of her encounter with Gilbert Payne that she did not notice it, seeing which, Mrs. Knapp said, ”I'm glad you have come in, miss.”

”Why?” with immediate apprehension. ”Is my uncle ill?”

”He is not right, miss. I took him up his cup or tea and slice of dry toast about five, and he was lying back, as he often does, asleep, as I thought, in the chair. I says, 'Here's your tea, sir,' but he made no answer, and I spoke again twice without making him hear; then I touched his hand; it was stone cold; so I got water and dabbed his brow, when he sat up all of a sudden, and swore at me for making him cold and damp with my--I don't like to say the word--rags. Then he s.h.i.+vered and shook like an aspen; but I made up the fire and popped a spoonful of brandy in his tea--he never noticed. But he kept asking for you, miss. I think he doesn't know he was bad.”

Katherine hastened to her uncle, greatly distressed at having been absent at the moment of need. In her eagerness she committed the mistake of asking how he felt now, and received a tart reply. There was nothing the matter with him, nothing unusual--only his old complaint, increasing years and infirmity; still he was not to be treated like a helpless baby.

Katherine felt her error, and turned the subject; then, returning to it, begged him to see a doctor. This he refused sternly. Finally she had recourse to an article on the revenue in the paper, which soothed him, and she saw the old man totter off to bed with extreme uneasiness, yet not daring even to suggest a night light, so irritable did he seem.

Before she slept she wrote a brief account of what had occurred to Mr.

Newton, and implored him to come and remonstrate with his client.

CHAPTER VII.

THE BEGINNING OF THE END.

Katherine Liddell had never spent so uneasy a night, save when her mother had been ill. Her nerves were on the stretch, her ears painfully watchful for the smallest sound. What if the desolate old man should pa.s.s away, alone and unaided, in the darkness of night! The sense of responsibility was almost too much for her. If she could have her mother at her side she would fear nothing. She was up early, thankful to see daylight, and eager for Mrs. Knapp's report of her uncle.

Generally the old man was afoot betimes, and despised the luxury of warm water. This morning Mrs. Knapp had to knock at his door, as he was not moving, and after a brief interview returned to inform Katherine that Mr. Liddell grumbled at her for being up too early, and on hearing that it was half past eight, said she had better bring him a cup of tea.

Katherine carried it to him herself. He took very little notice of her, but said he would get up presently and hear the papers read.

When she came back with some jelly, for which she had sent to the nearest confectioner, he ate it without comment, and told her she might go.

It was a miserable morning, but about noon, to her great delight, she saw Mr. Newton opening the garden gate. She flew to admit him.

”I am so thankful you have come!”

”How is Mr. Liddell?”

”He seems quite himself this morning, except that he is inclined to stay in bed.”

”He must see a doctor,” said Mr. Newton, speaking in a low voice and turning into the parlor. ”We must try and keep him alive and in his senses for every reason. I am glad he is still in bed; it will give me an excuse for urging him to take advice, for of course I shall not mention your note.”

”No pray do not. He evidently does not like to be thought ill.”