The Man with a Shadow

“Quite right, my dear, but they have, and a great deal too sometimes.”

He nodded shortly to both in turn, and stalked out of the room.

Mrs Berens had risen. So had the tears, in spite of a very gallant fight. She made one more effort to keep them back, but her emotion was too strong; and, woman-like, seeking sympathy of woman, she sank upon her knees by Mary’s side, sobbing as if her heart would break.

“Good-bye, Mary, dear,” she said at last. “I’m a weak, simple woman; but I can feel, and very deeply too.”

This, after a long weeping communion, during which Mary Salis understood the gentle-hearted widow better than she had ever grasped her character before.

There was a very tender embrace, and then, with her veil drawn down tightly, Mrs Berens left.

“Why not?” said Mary to herself as she lay back thinking. “She is very good and amiable, and she loves him very much. And if I die – poor Hartley will seem to be alone. – Why not?”

Then her mind reverted to her visitor’s words, and a cloud of trouble sat upon her brow.

“What can it mean?” she mused. “And I so helpless here!” she sighed at last; “compelled to hear everything from others, unable to do anything but lie here and think.”

Volume Three – Chapter Three.

Moredock Writes a Note

“He’s took to it – he’s took to it!” muttered Moredock, as he scratched one side of his nose with the waxy end of his pipe.

“Ah, it’s wonderful what a many doctors do take to it, and gallop theirselves off with it. Begins with a drop to keep ’em up sometimes, I s’pose, and then takes a little more and a little more.”

The old man sat smoking and musing over a visit he had just had from North.

“I don’t like it,” he said to himself. “He mayn’t be quite right some day when I call him in, and then it may be serious for me; I don’t like it at all.

“It’s no wonder when a man’s got all sorts o’ things as he can mix up into cordles, if he feels a bit down. That was prime stuff as he give me in the morslem. Hah! that was stuff. Then that other as went down into your fingers and toes, as it did right to the very nails. Why, I shouldn’t ha’ been surprised if he’d brought Squire Luke back to life with it.

“Hi, hi, hi!” he chuckled; “never mind about Squire Luke; but I should like him by-and-by – by-and-by, of course – to have a bottle on it mixed ready to give me, and bring me back. Phew! that’s a nasty subject to think about.”

He smoked rather hurriedly for some time, and there was a curious, haggard expression in his face; but it died out under the influence of his tobacco, and, after a time, he gave a low chuckle and shook all over.

“‘Old Buck!’ that’s what he said. ‘Old Buck,’ and give me a slap i’ the chest, as nearly knocked all the wind out o’ me. Not a bit like him to do. Not professional. As soon have expected Parson Salis to call me Old Cock. Ah, well! doctor’s only a man after all, and no book-larning won’t make him anything else; but I don’t like a doctor as takes to his drops.

“’Tarn’t brandy, or gin, or rum, or whisky, or I should have smelt him, and he spoke straight enough d’rectly after. He takes some stuff as he mixes up, and it makes him ready to burst out rollicking like at times; but he recollects hisself quickly ag’in, and seems sorry.

“Ay, but he looks bad, that he do. Looks like a man who can’t sleep – white and wanly. Well, as long as he tends me right, it don’t matter. He paid up handsome for all I did for him. Hi! hi! hi! It was a rum game. How’s young squire now, I wonder, and how’s matters going on there? Ha! now that’s curus. So sure as I begins thinking about my Dally, she comes. Hallo, my little princess, how do?”

“Oh, I am quite well, gran’fa,” said Dally, entering the cottage, looking rather flushed and heated. “I’m in a great hurry, but I thought I’d just run down and see how you were.”

“He come with you?” said the old man, pointing over the little maid’s shoulder.

She looked sharply round, caught sight of Joe Chegg, and ran back and slammed the door.

“An idiot!” she cried sharply. “He’s always following me about.”

“Going to let him marry you, Dally?”

“I should think not, indeed! What nonsense, gran’fa.”

“Well, what have you come for, eh? How’s squire?”

“Getting nearly well again.”

“Is he? How do you know? Were you going up to Hall night afore last?”

“N – ”

“Yes, you were, Dally,” said the old man, with a chuckle. “You needn’t tell a lie. I know. I often see you when you don’t know. You was going up to Hall.”

“Well, then, I was,” said Dally defiantly, “and I don’t care who knows.”

“’Cept Miss Leo, eh?”

The old man chuckled hugely, and rubbed his hands.

“I don’t mind Miss Leo knowing. She does know,” cried Dally. “Perhaps she sent me.”

“Did she, though – did she, though? Ay, but she’ll win him after all, Dally. She’s better and handsomer than you are, and she’s a leddy, Dally. You’ve got no chance against she.”

“Haven’t I, gran’fa? You’ll see. But not if I’m obliged to go up to the Hall looking shabby and mean. You said I should have a silk gown and a feather.”

“Did I? Did I? Oh, it was only my joking, Dally. You’re such a pretty gel, you don’t want silk dresses and feathers.”

“No, I don’t want ’em,” said Dally sharply; “but men do. They like to see us dressed up. Squire Tom thinks I look a deal nicer when I’ve got my best frock on.”

“Did he say so, Dally – did he say so?”

“Never you mind, gran’fa. Where’s the money you promised me?”

“Nay, I’ve thought better of it. You shall have it some day – when I’m dead and gone.”

“No, no, gran’fa, dear; I don’t want you to die,” whispered Dally, fondling him. “I want you to live a long time yet, and come and see me at the Hall.”

“Tchah! you’ll never get to be there. It’ll be Miss Leo.”

“Will it?” said Dally, with a toss of the head. “We shall see about that. You’ll give me some money, won’t you, gran’fa?”

“Nay. You’ve never made them new shirts yet.”

“I’ve been so busy, gran’fa dear,” cried the girl. “Why, I’ve been up to the Hall six times since I saw you last.”

“Up to Hall? Not alone?”

“Yes, and alone. Why not?” said Dally saucily. “Besides, Miss Leo sent me.”