About midday, on his return from visiting his patients, North looked
rather black.
Perhaps it was the reflection from the sleek, superfine garments of his
cousin, for that gentleman was walking slowly up and down on the lawn in
front of the old Manor House, and in no way adding to the attractions of
the quaintly-cut, well-kept place. "You here, Thompson!"
"Yes, my dear Horace; I had to come down on business to-day, and I
thought you would give me a bit of lunch before I went on."
"To see Mrs Berens?"
"Well--er--perhaps I may give her a call; but my business was with--dear
me, how strange that you should take any interest in social matters that
have nothing to do with the body!"
"Am I such a very eccentric man, then, that I should study my profession
hard?"
"Not at all, my dear fellow--not at all. I study mine hard, my dear
Horace. Left almost penniless, it was a necessity, and I have, I am
proud to say, been very successful, and am practically independent. But
my visit here to-day was not to see the handsome widow--there, don't
blush, old fellow."
"Don't be a fool, Thompson," said the doctor testily. "Now, then, what
were you going to say?"
"I was going to tell you that my visit would be to the Hall."
"To the Hall?" cried North excitedly. "Yes. Here, what's the matter?"
said Cousin Thompson excitedly. "He hasn't given me the slip?"
"If you mean Sir Luke Candlish--"
"No," said Thompson harshly; "I don't mean Luke Candlish. Here, why
don't you speak, man? Has Tom Candlish gone?"
"No; he is at the Hall; but--"
"That's all right, then," said Cousin Thompson, drawing a breath of
relief. "Oh, I see, you've been over."
"Yes, I have been over."
"And he is shamming illness again because he expected me to-day. But it
won't do, Horace--it won't do. Come, now, he's quite well, isn't he?
Don't turn against your own cousin, and back him up."
"Tom Candlish is as well as a man can be under such horrible
circumstances. His brother is dead."
"Phew!" whistled the lawyer--a long-drawn, low, deep whistle. "Then he
is now Sir Thomas Candlish."
"Yes, and if you have lent him money at usury it will be all right."
"At usury!" snarled the lawyer; "don't you be so fond of using that
word. I must make money, and lending at interest is fair enough."
"Where are you going?"
"Going down to the Hall at once."
"You said you had come to lunch."
"Hang your lunch! I must see Tom Candlish."
"Impossible. It would not be decent to go on business now."
"Decent or indecent, I must see him at once."
"My cousin; and how cordially I do dislike him!" muttered the doctor, as
he watched the sleek, black back of his visitor as he went down towards
the gate. "To go at a time like this! Well, thank goodness, I am not a
money-grubber."
He sat down in his study, and took a manuscript book from his drawer.
Over this book he began to pore, but the words danced before his eyes,
and he could think of nothing but Luke Candlish, the hale, strong man,
suddenly cut off by accident, and of Leo's words bidding him distinguish
himself.
"No rest last night," he said, throwing the book back into the drawer;
"I can't read, or think, or do anything."
"Are you ready for your lunch, sir?" said Mrs Milt. "Mr Thompson will
join you, I suppose?"
"No; but I dare say he will come to dinner."
"Ho! Lunch is quite ready, sir," said the old lady, in an ill-used
tone, as the doctor moved towards the door.
"Never mind; I can't eat to-day. Going out," said North hastily; and he
hurriedly left the house, and passed down the village, where every one
was discussing the accident at the Hall, and longed to question him, if
such a thing could have been ventured upon.
He had not seen Moredock for two or three days, and almost immediately,
to avoid the torture of his thoughts, and what was rapidly approaching
the stage of a great temptation, he walked to the old sexton's cottage.
The door was ajar, and he tapped, but there was no reply, and the only
sound within was the regular beat of the great clock as the heavy
pendulum swung to and fro.
"Asleep, perhaps," he said to himself, and pushing the door, he walked
in; but the big arm-chair was vacant, and after a glance round, in which
his eyes rested for a moment upon the old carved oak coffer, the doctor
went slowly out, and, without considering which way he should go, walked
straight on towards the church.
A sound, as of something falling, made him raise his eyes, and he saw
that the chancel door was open.
"What's Salis doing there?" he said to himself; and, entering the gate,
he walked up the steps to the open doorway.
"You here, Salis?" he said.
"Nay, sir," came back, in a harsh, familiar tone; "parson's been and
gone. Things is looking up again, doctor."
"Looking up?"
"Ay. Been trebble quiet lately: only a bit of a child as hasn't been
chrissen' this month past. Horrible healthy place, Dook's Hampton."
"What are you doing here?"
"Doing? Here? Why, haven't you heard as the young squire--why, of
course you have; you were called up this morning. Well, he's got to be
buried, hasn't he?"
"Buried? Yes, of course," said the doctor thoughtfully.
"Yes; he's got to be buried," said Moredock. "Some says it arn't decent
and like Christians, as ought to be buried tight in the brown earth.
But they don't know, doctor. They can't tell what a lot o' water there
is in the ground o' winters. I know, and I know what 'matics is.
Nobody knows how damp that there churchyard is better than I do,
doctor."
North stood looking at the sexton, but his thoughts were far away.
"Ay, Squire Luke 'll be buried in the morslem--he'll lie with his
fathers, as Scripter says; and when I die, which won't be this twenty
year, that's how I'd like to lie with my fathers. Stretched out nice
and warm in his lead coffin, that's how he's going to be, and put on a
nice dry shelf. Ay, it's a nasty damp old churchyard, doctor, and well
they folk in Church Row know it. He, he, he! their wells is allus full
o' nice clean water, but I allus goes to the fur pump."
North did not seem to hear a word, but stood holding on by the rail of
the Candlish tomb, thinking. His head swam with the dazzling light that
blazed into his understanding. He was confused, and full of wonder,
hesitation, and doubt.
Luke Candlish--dead--the mausoleum--the hale, hearty young man--struck
down.
"Good heavens!" he ejaculated; "has my opportunity come--at last?"