The Shadow of Ashlydyat Part 109

A few days progressed onwards, and another week was in. Every hour brought to light more--what are we to call it--imprudence?--of Mr.

George G.o.dolphin's. His friends termed it imprudence; his enemies villainy. Thomas called it nothing: he never cast reproach on George by a single word; he would have taken the whole odium upon himself, had it been possible to take it. George's conduct was breaking his heart, was driving him to his grave somewhat before his time; but Thomas never said in the hearing of others--He has been a bad brother to me.

George G.o.dolphin was not yet home again. It could not be said that he was in concealment, as he was sometimes met in London by people visiting it. Perhaps he carried his habitual carelessness so far as to the perilling of his own safety; and his absence from Prior's Ash may have been the result only of his distaste to meet that ill-used community.

Had he been sole partner, he must have been there to answer to his bankruptcy; as it was, Thomas, hitherto, had answered all in his own person.

But there came a day when Thomas could not answer it. Ill or well, he rose now to the early breakfast-table: he had to hasten to the Bank betimes, for there was much work there with the accounts; and one morning when they were at breakfast, Bexley, his own servant, entered with one or two letters.

They were speaking of Lady G.o.dolphin. My lady was showing herself a true friend. She had announced to them that it was her intention to resume her residence at the Folly, that they "might not be separated from Prior's Ash, the place of their birth and home." Of course it was an intimation, really delicately put, that their future home must be with her. "Never for me," Janet remarked: _her_ future residence would not be at Prior's Ash; as far removed from it as possible.

Thomas had risen, and was at a distant table, opening his letters, when a faint moan startled them. He was leaning back in his chair, seemingly unconscious; his hands had fallen, his face was the hue of the grave.

Surely those dews upon it were not the dews of death?

Cecil screamed; Bessy flung open the door and called for help; Janet only turned to them, her hands lifted to enjoin silence, a warning word upon her lips. Bexley came running in, and looked at his master.

"He'll be better presently," he whispered.

"Yes, he will be better presently," a.s.sented Janet. "But I should like Mr. Snow to be here."

Bexley was the only man-servant left at Ashlydyat. Short work is generally made of the dispersion of a household when the means come to an end, as they had with the G.o.dolphins: and there had been no difficulty in finding places for the excellent servants of Ashlydyat.

Bexley had stoutly refused to go. He didn't want wages, he said, but he was not going to leave his master, so long as---- Bexley did not say so long as what, but they had understood him. So long as his master was in life.

Thomas began to revive. He slowly opened his eyes, and raised his hand to wipe the moisture from his white face. On the table before him lay one of the letters open. Janet recognized the handwriting as that of George.

She spurned the letter from her. With a gesture of grievous vexation, her hand pushed it across the table. "It is that which has affected you!" she cried out, with a wail.

"Not so," breathed Thomas. "It was the pain here."

He touched himself below the chest; in the place where the pain had come before. _Which_ pain had seized upon him?--the mental agony arising from George's conduct, or the physical agony of his disease? Probably somewhat of both.

He stretched out his hand towards the letter, making a motion that it should be folded. Bexley, who could not have read a word without his gla.s.ses had it been to save his life, took up the letter, folded it, and placed it in its envelope. Thomas's mind then seemed at rest, and he closed his eyes again.

Mr. Snow soon reached Ashlydyat. "Another attack, I hear," he began, in his unceremonious salutation. "Bothered into it, no doubt. Bexley says it came on when he was reading letters."

With the wan white look upon his face, with the moisture of pain still upon his brow, lay Thomas G.o.dolphin. He was on the sofa now; but he partially rose from it and a.s.sumed a sitting posture when the surgeon entered.

A few professional questions and answers, and then Mr. Snow began to grumble. "Did I not warn you that you must have perfect tranquillity?"

cried he. "Rest of body and of mind."

"You did. But how am I to have it? Even now, I ought to be at the Bank, facing the trouble there."

"Where's George?" sharply asked Mr. Snow.

"In London," replied Thomas G.o.dolphin. But he said it in no complaining accent: neither did his tone invite further comment.

Mr. Snow was one who did not wait for an invitation in such a cause ere he spoke. "It is one of two things, Mr. G.o.dolphin. Either George must come back and face this worry, or else you'll die."

"I shall die, however it may be, Snow," was the reply of Thomas G.o.dolphin.

"So will most of us, I expect," returned the doctor. "But there's no necessity for being helped on to it by others, ages before death would come of itself. What's your brother at in London? Amusing himself, I suppose. He must be got here."

Thomas shook his head. The action, as implying a negative, aroused the wrath of Mr. Snow. "Do you want to die?" he asked. "One would think it, by your keeping your brother away."

"There is no person who would more gladly see my brother here than I,"

returned Thomas G.o.dolphin. "If--if it were expedient that he should come."

"Need concealment be affected between us, Mr. G.o.dolphin?" resumed the surgeon, after a pause. "You must be aware that I have heard the rumours afloat. A doctor hears everything, you know. You are uncertain whether it would be safe for George to come back to Prior's Ash."

"It is something of that sort, Snow."

"But now, what is there against him--it is of no use to mince the matter--besides those bonds of Lord Averil's?"

"There's nothing else against him. At least, in--in----" He did not go on. He could not bring his lips to say of his brother--"from a criminal point of view."

"Nothing else of which unpleasant legal cognizance can be taken," freely interposed Mr. Snow. "Well, now, it is my opinion that there's not a shadow of fear to be entertained from Lord Averil. He is your old and firm friend, Mr. G.o.dolphin."

"He has been mine: yes. Not so much George's. Most men in such a case of--of loss, would resent it, without reference to former friendship. I am not at any certainty, you see, and therefore I cannot take the responsibility of saying to my brother, 'It is safe for you to return.'

Lord Averil has never been near me since. I argue ill from it."

"He has not been with you for the best of all possible reasons--that he has been away from Prior's Ash," explained Mr. Snow.

"Has he been away? I did not know it."

"He has. He was called away unexpectedly by some relative's illness, a day or two after your house was declared bankrupt. He may have refrained from calling on you just at the time that happened, from motives of delicacy."

"True," replied Thomas G.o.dolphin. But his tone was not a hopeful one.

"When does he return?"

"He has returned. He came back last night."

There was a pause. Thomas G.o.dolphin broke it. "I wish you could give me something to avert or mitigate these sharp attacks of pain, Snow," he said. "It is agony, in fact; not pain."

"I know it," replied Mr. Snow. "Where's the use of my attempting to give you anything? You don't take my prescriptions."

Thomas lifted his eyes in some surprise. "I have taken all that you have desired me."

"No, you have not. I prescribe tranquillity of mind and body. You take neither."

Thomas G.o.dolphin leaned a little nearer to the doctor, and paused before he answered. "Tranquillity of mind for me has pa.s.sed. I can never know it again. Were my life to be prolonged, the great healer of all things, Time, might bring it me in a degree: but, for that, I shall not live.

Snow, you must know this to be the case, under the calamity which has fallen upon my head."

"It ought to have fallen upon your brother's head, not upon yours," was the rejoinder of the surgeon, spoken crossly, in his inability to contradict Mr. G.o.dolphin's words. "At any rate, you cannot go on any longer facing this business in person."

"I must indeed. There is no help for it."

"And suppose it kills you?" was the retort.

"If I could help going, I would," said Thomas. "But there is no alternative. One of us must be there; and George cannot be. You are not ignorant of the laws of bankruptcy."