A Crooked Path Part 17

"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 friendship, 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 shivered 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."

"Pray how long have you been here--nearly a month? Yes, I thought so. I cannot compliment you on your looks. How do you think you have been getting on with our friend?"

"Not very well, I fear," said Katherine, shaking her head. "He rarely speaks to me, except to give some order or ask some necessary question. Yet he does not speak roughly or crossly, as he does to Mrs. Knapp; and something I cannot define in his voice, even in his cold eyes, tells me he is growing used to my presence, and that he does not dislike it."

"Well, I should think not, Miss Liddell," said the precise lawyer, politely. "I trust time may be given to him to recognize the claims of kindred and of merit. Pray ask him if he will see me, and in the mean time please send a note to Dr. Brown--a very respectable pract.i.tioner, who lives not far; ask him to come at once. I must persuade Mr. Liddell to see him, and if possible while I am present."

The old man showed no surprise at Mr. Newton's presence; it was almost time for his monthly visit, and as he brought a small sum of money with him, the result of some minor payments, he was very welcome.

Katherine, immensely relieved, sat trying to work in the front parlor, but really watching for the doctor. Would her uncle see him? and if not, ought she still to undertake the responsibility of such a charge?

At last he arrived, a staid, thoughtful-looking man; and before he had time to do more than exchange a few words with her, Mr.

Newton appeared and carried him off to see the patient.

They seemed a long time gone; and when they returned the doctor wrote a prescription--a very simple tonic, he said. "What your uncle needs, Miss Liddell," he said, "is constant nourishment. He is exceedingly weak; the action of the heart is feeble, the whole system starved. You must get him to take all the food you can, and some good wine--Burgundy if possible. He had better get up.

There is really no organic disease, but he is very low. He ought to have some one in his room at night."

"It will be difficult to manage that," said Mr. Newton.

"I shall look in to-morrow about this time," said the doctor, and hurried away.

"How have you contrived to make him hear reason?" asked Katherine, eagerly.

"I took the law into my own hands, for one thing, and I suggested a powerful motive for living on. I reminded him that he and another old gentleman are the only survivors in a 'Tontine,' and that he must try to outlive him. So the cost of doctor, medicine, etc., etc., ought to be considered as an investment. Do not fail to get him all possible nourishment. If he rebels, send for me."

"I will indeed. I am almost afraid to stay here alone. Might I not have my mother with me?"

"Do not think of it"--earnestly. "I was going to say that I believe you are decidedly gaining on your uncle; but the intrusion of Mrs. Frederic Liddell yesterday was very unfortunate. My rather peculiar client is impressed with the idea that you invited her."

"Indeed I did not!" cried Katherine.

"I did not suppose you did, but her appearance seems to have given Mr. Liddell a shock." Mr. Newton paused, and then asked in a slow tone, as if thinking hard, "What was your sister-in-law's maiden name?"

"Sandford," said Katherine.

"Sandford? That is rather a curious coincidence. The late Mrs.

John Liddell was a Miss Sandford."

"Is she dead, then?"

"Yes; she died eight or nine years ago."

"Could they have been related?"

"Possibly. Some likeness seems to have struck your uncle."

There was a short silence, and Mr. Newton resumed. "I trust you do not find your stay here too trying? I consider it very important that you should persevere, though it is only right to tell you that Mr. Liddell has made a will--not a just one, in my opinion--and it is extremely unlikely he will ever change it."