Part 33 (1/2)
Sir George's eyes, as he was slightly raised to take the medicine, had fallen upon some object at the other end of the room, and continued to be strained on it. ”Who has changed the position of the cabinet?” he exclaimed, in a stronger tone than he had yet spoken.
It caused them all to turn and look at the spot. A fine old ebony cabinet, inlaid with silver, stood opposite the bed: had stood there ever since they removed to Lady G.o.dolphin's Folly; transplanted thither from Ashlydyat. In the latter house, it had stood on the right of Sir George's bed: and his memory had evidently gone back to that. There could not be a better proof that he was fancying himself at Ashlydyat, lying in his own chamber.
”Janet! why have you placed the cabinet there?”
Janet G.o.dolphin bent her head soothingly over him. ”My dear father, it shall be moved, if you wish it.”
The knight looked at her, inquiringly for a moment, perhaps not recognizing her. Then he feebly essayed to look beyond her, as if her head interposed between his own view and something behind. ”Hush, my dear, I am speaking to your mother. I want to know why she changed the place of the cabinet.”
”We thought you'd like it there, Sir George; that you could see it better there,” interposed Margery, who knew better than most of them how to deal with the sick. ”I'll have it put back before to-morrow morning.”
This satisfied him, and he lay still for a few minutes. They thought, he would sleep. Presently his eyes opened again, and they rested on George.
”George, where's Charlotte?”
”Who, sir?” demanded George, somewhat taken aback at the question. ”Do you mean Charlotte Pain? She is at--she is not here.”
”Are you married yet?”
”Oh no,” said George hastily, while several pairs of wondering eyes were directed towards him, and those of the Reverend Mr. Hastings were of the number. ”Time enough for that, father.”
”George!” next came the words, in a hollow whisper this time, ”don't let her die, as Ethel did.”
”Not if I can help it,” replied George, speaking without any serious meaning, except that of humouring his father.
”And don't let Verrall go off the bargain with the money. He is keen that way; but he has no right to touch Charlotte's. If he does--Bessy, is Jekyl dead?”
”Oh no, papa,” said Bessy, suppressing her tears as she caressed her father's hand: it was in stooping to do this, that the knight had observed her. ”Jekyl is well and hearty yet, and he asked after you to-day. He heard you were coming home.”
”Ay! All well and hearty, but me. But it is the will of G.o.d to take me, and He knows what's best. Where's Thomas?”
”I am here, father,” replied Thomas G.o.dolphin, leaning, forward so that his father could see him.
Sir George tried to put up his hand with a beckoning gesture. Thomas understood it: he bent his face close to that pale one, and clasped the nearly inanimate hand in his, listening reverently to the whisper that was breathed so solemnly.
”Thomas, I charge you, never quit Ashlydyat.”
”I will not,” replied Thomas G.o.dolphin.
”If you bring one home to it, and she would urge you to quit it, urge you until you have no will of your own left, do not yield to it. Do not listen to her. Break with her, let her go forth alone, rather than quit Ashlydyat.”
”Father, I will never, of my own free will, leave Ashlydyat. I promise you that, so far as I can hold control over human events, I will live and die in it.”
Certainly Sir George understood the promise and its meaning. There could be no mistaking that he did so, by the smile of content which from that moment overspread his countenance, lighting up with satisfaction even his dying eye. He lay for a considerable time still, and then suddenly called for Margery.
”You'll tell your mistress that we can't root up those bushes,” he said, as she approached. ”It's of no use trying. As fast as they are up from one place they grow in another. They'll not hurt. Tell her I say so.”
”I'd get some quicklime, Sir George, and see what that would do,” was Margery's response, and the words brought up a smile from one or two of her listeners, solemn moment though it was. Margery's maxim was, never to contradict the dying, but to humour their hallucinations. ”Obstinate things, those gorses!” she continued. ”But, never you trouble about my mistress, sir: she don't mind them.”
The children, standing round his bed, knew quite well that he was alluding to their mother, his first wife. Indeed, Lady G.o.dolphin appeared to have pa.s.sed entirely from his mind.