_Mary._ Why thinks King Henry's son that Margaret's love
Hangs in the uncertain balance of proud time?
That death shall make a discord of our thoughts?
GREENE.
Faithe is the first, and principally to tell,
And verie love requirith soche credence,
That eche beleve othir true as the gospel,
In true menyng and trustie confidence.
THE X COMMANDMENTS OF LOVE.
Margaret had promised to breakfast with Harriet every day in the
Oratory. When she went in the next morning, the room was vacant; the
table spread, the urn steaming, the tea made, and newspapers laid ready.
She took up one and seated herself to wait. Presently she heard voices
in the passage which divided the Oratory from Harriet's room. The
speakers were Harriet and Everard Gage.
"Why do you interfere with me?" said Everard, in a tone that would have
been cross but for the exertion.
"Because you are a slug," was Harriet's flattering reply, "I gave you
every chance for two days, and now I will take her away from you. You
shall not have her."
"A man can't make an offer in two days," said Everard.
"No, but he can make himself agreeable in half a day, instead of that
you have behaved like a stupid wax doll; and so I have settled to give
Miss Capel to some one else. And you can't help yourself!" said Harriet
in a tone of exultation that it was very difficult to bear temperately.
"I like that," said Everard, "I shall ask George if it is right for you
to make matches."
A peal of laughter from Harriet, that threatened to be interminable--in
the midst of which George Gage, coming through the passage on his way
to the Oratory, was stopped by the disputants--and then ensued a great
deal of laughing from himself and Harriet, mixed with a low, complaining
noise from Everard, which soon sank into silence. Margaret not caring to
be found there, escaped to her own room, and when she was summoned by
Mrs. Thompson, she found all three seated peaceably at the table.
Everard sat next her, and after handing her all she wanted, took a moss
rose-bud from his coat, and presented it to her. Margaret thanked him,
and laid it by her plate. Harriet snatched it up and put it in her own
dress. Mr. Gage tried to look serious, and Everard did not seem to know
how to take it. But he made no more attempts at conciliating Margaret
during breakfast. It was hard work at the best, but when there was
another person counteracting all you did, it was too gigantic an
adventure.
"I will tell you some news, ma mie," said Harriet, "Bessy and Uncle Gage
will be here next week. Mr. Haveloc stays for the pigeon shooting, the
day after to-morrow; and Everard says he will read the part of Alphonse
at our rehearsals. And the play is to come off on Monday."
"Haveloc will stay for the play, I suppose," said Mr. Gage.
"Oh, true!" said Harriet, "Lucy settled that with him, the last thing.
But he will not act--so provoking; I shall have to teach Everard, at
last."
"I cannot learn all that by heart," said Everard.
"Oh, yes, you will to please me!" said Harriet, "you will be so much
admired. Think how well you will look, so like a dear wax-work!"
"Then you must do something for me in return," said Everard.
"Oh! that is Jewish; but I will do several things, if you are quite
perfect."
"You know what I mean," said Everard.
"Yes, I know all about it," said Harriet, "there, take my part-book, go
down into the library, and have all that scene perfect before I come."
"Well, but where are you going? I could sit here, and you read it out to
me, I should learn it faster that way."
"Take him away, George, do!" cried Harriet stamping her foot.
The brothers disappeared together, and Harriet remained leaning against
the window, making some mental calculations, which she seemed counting
on her fingers.
"Yes," she said to herself, at last, "I will amuse Everard with Miss
Campbell, and then Margaret--"
Margaret started in fear.
"Margaret!" said Harriet, "I have resolved that you shall be mistress of
Tynebrook."
Margaret burst into one of her rare passions of tears. Harriet was
frightened, and distressed, and still more puzzled.
"I do declare, little one, I cannot make you out," said she, as soon as
she had caressed Margaret into something like calmness again; "first
you faint, and then you cry, and all for some mysterious reason I cannot
fathom. If I do find out your secret, I will have no mercy on you."
"But listen Harriet," said Margaret, "I am so vexed when you plan such
things; and not being well, everything agitates me."
"Well I won't teaze the little beauty," said Harriet; "let us go down
and find something to amuse you. But Margaret," said she, hanging on the
threshold, "remember I have had the disorder, and am familiar with the
symptoms."
Lord James was in the library acting with Miss Campbell, Lucy holding
the book. The father was to ride over in the course of the morning; he
was the officer who had shown some disposition for Margaret's money the
evening before. Mrs. Fitzpatrick and Mr. Haveloc were walking in the
shrubberies. Margaret took out her netting, and sat down in the shade,
out of every one's way. Harriet threw herself on the scene, made Lucy
read the part of M. Dumenil, until the officer should appear, and
commanded the play to begin again. Everard was forced forward, and
laughed at by Harriet, who called him a wax-work, and offered him a
letter of introduction to Mme. Tussaud, and then praised him into good
humour again; and recommended him to Miss Campbell for instruction,
which that young lady willingly undertook. The officer came in, and had
no time to molest Margaret, for he was seized upon by Harriet, and had
his part-book snatched from him, and marked full of stage directions,
and was turned on among the tables and chairs, to blunder through his
rôle, before he had time to look round, or discover who was in the room.
Harriet's acting was inimitable, like every thing she undertook. The
officer was not very bad; Lord James pretty well, and Miss Campbell full
of an arch simplicity, that showed her as accomplished on, as she was
off the stage. In the midst of it all, Mrs. Fitzpatrick and Mr. Haveloc
entered with Lord Raymond.
His Lordship was delighted at the amusement provided for him so
unexpectedly. He signed his companions to chairs, and sat down and
clapped with great vigour. Then down came Lady James, who took a chair
next to Mr. Haveloc, and began to abuse him on his want of gallantry in
declining the part of Alphonse. She believed he was the only man who
would refuse an opportunity of playing with her friend Miss Campbell.
Mr. Haveloc said that he was selfish enough to wish to enjoy Miss
Campbell's excellent acting thoroughly, which he could not have done,
had he played with her.
Lady James was appeased by this answer, which, did not, however, sound
quite sincere to Margaret's ear, proceeded to give him a catalogue of
all her young friend's merits, which lasted, so numerous were they,
until the play had been read through. Then the actors dispersed, the
officer to the back of Margaret's chair, Everard to the nearest sofa,
Lord James to Lady Raymond, and Harriet to Mr. Haveloc. Yes, just as
Lady James had called Miss Campbell to her, and assigned the seat next
that gentleman, Harriet beckoned him to the window, and swept him out
upon the lawn.
"I say, do you know the name of this red thing," said she, pointing to a
flower in one of the beds.
"No, I don't. I have it, but I have forgotten the name," he said.
"How long have you been at Tynebrook?"
"About two months."
"What! have you done all that to the church in two months?"
"Every bit of it. I was in Norway three months ago."
"Ah! You are a great traveller, I believe."
"I have done little else for the last two years."
"Well, that is a very pleasant way of passing time."
"I don't know that it is quite right," said Mr. Haveloc. "One leaves all
one's duties behind in travelling; that is one of its great
attractions." Then feeling that his companion was not very likely to
sympathize with him, he changed the subject.
"I saw your chestnut this morning, Mrs. Gage. He is superb. I hardly
know such a beautiful head."
"Has he not? And so tame. Did George go with you?"
"He did, and the chestnut held a very rational conversation with him?"
"You admire him, as much as I did your altar-cloth."
"I do, indeed."
"I think you must have got it on purpose for your wedding, Mr. Havleoc,"
said Harriet.
"I am afraid it will not serve that turn," he replied; "for there is no
lady in my parish above the condition of a small farmer's daughter.
Tynebrook is a wilderness."
"Ah, true! the lady must be married in her own parish," said Harriet,
narrowly regarding his countenance.
"That is the etiquette, I believe," he said, gravely; and as she did not
speak again directly, he turned quietly and courteously away, and walked
to the library.
As soon as Harriet made the move, most of the party strolled away under
the trees. The officer, who was unusually disagreeable in Margaret's
eyes, asked her if she would not follow their example, and offered his
arm, as if to decide her choice.
Margaret thanked him, but said she preferred sitting quiet, as the day
was hot; and she was in a hurry to finish her netting.
The officer said she was very prudent, and taking a chair, offered to
read to her.
Margaret's vexation knew no bounds, but she was not aware that the man
wanted her money, and she thought he really meant it as a civility, so
she composed herself to listen. But after a few sentences, horribly
read, her impatience could not be controlled. She rose, muttered
something about wanting more silk, and went to her room to be quiet.
Mr. Haveloc came in the moment after, found Everard asleep on a sofa,
and the officer, still seated with the book in his hand, wondering how
any girl could go away while he was sitting by her.
Margaret did not leave her room till dinner time. Harriet paid her a
visit when she thought it proper. She should have some luncheon, with
sandwiches, and a plate of delicious ice.
Margaret was thankful for the ice, and gratified by Harriet's kindness.
Her friend told her that Miss Campbell was gone into the paddock to see
Lord James shoot pigeons, to practice for the match; and that Mr.
Haveloc, when it came to the point, declared he could not shoot, and was
sitting with Lucy, nursing Flora. But though she told this as carelessly
as any other piece of news, she saw by the warm colour that rushed into
Margaret's face, that she had set her mind at rest for the present.
"Well, Miss Capel," said Mason, as she put the finishing touch to her
hair, "you do look splendid to-day, ma'am;" and Mason pushed down the
cheval-glass, that her young lady might take a survey of herself.
"Yes, I am a little flushed by the heat," said Margaret, looking
carelessly over her shoulder into the glass; "put a white rose in my
hair."
Mason obeyed. Margaret lingered about the room until she thought dinner
was on the point of being announced, and then went quietly into the
drawing-room, and sat down out of the way, as she hoped. But Harriet's
quick eye detected her in a moment. Leaving her fan in Mr. Haveloc's
hands, she crossed over to her directly.
"Child! what have you done to make yourself so beautiful," she asked.
"You are all steeped in lilies and roses."
"I have recovered my journey by this time," said Margaret, smiling;
"that is all."
"I am playing a game against Lady James," said Harriet. "It has been my
amusement all day long to cross her. She is trying to get Mr. Haveloc
for Miss Campbell. You will see how I manage. I want him for myself."
"For yourself, Harriet?"
"Yes, to flirt with. Now look!"
Dinner was announced. Lady James glanced at Miss Campbell, who was
seated by her, and then at Mr. Haveloc, who was standing before her
talking.
"My fan, please, Mr. Haveloc!" cried Harriet from the other side of the
room.
He had laid it down on one of the tables, and started off to find it.
While he was searching about, with his glass at his eye, Harriet came up
to him.
"Why, there it is. Good gracious! Come, we shall be late;" said she
seizing the fan, and taking his arm, she sailed past the discomforted
Miss Campbell and Lady James.
Margaret was next to Mr. Gage at dinner, and he entertained her with an
account of the morning's shooting.
He said he was quite sorry for Mr. Haveloc; actually, he had confessed
he could not see a pigeon five yards off--so unusual! Mr. Gage had
strongly recommended him to have a glass fixed on his gun, but he had
remarked that "le jeu ne valait pas la chandelle." Mr. Gage considered
it a real affliction to be deprived of almost every rational means of
amusement. Pigeon shooting was only one branch of the rational pursuits,
there was shooting in general. He scarcely knew, indeed, how a man could
hunt if he did not see a few feet in front of his horse's head. And yet
Haveloc was a fair shot with a pistol. But then Miss Capel would
recollect that in pistol shooting, the mark was stationary.
Miss Capel gave due attention to these items of discourse, and then Mr.
Gage went on.
Really Haveloc was a very good fellow. He did not think him so religious
as people made out. He had persuaded them to go to Tynebrook for trout
fishing to-morrow. They were to dine there late, and return the next
morning--a late dinner even in these days--ten o'clock--that was
Raymond's idea. He said anglers lost the best part of the day when they
left off before the cool of the evening. He remembered having himself
caught the finest trout he ever saw, one evening about nine o'clock. He
always regretted he had not that fish weighed.
Margaret acceded to these remarks with a proper degree of interest. She
felt better, stronger than she had done before, more able to be amused
with what passed around her. The fact was, she said to herself, that now
her meeting with Mr. Haveloc was over--she had been in dread of it; and
though in the same house, they hardly saw or spoke to each other,
therefore there was nothing more to fear or hope--no suspense left.
Harriet meanwhile was keeping up a lively conversation with Mr.
Haveloc, at last she said:
"Are you one of Miss Capel's admirers? Every one here thinks her very
beautiful."
"Very much so," replied Mr. Haveloc, without looking towards Margaret.
"You knew her uncle very well. I suppose you must have seen a good deal
of her at Ashdale?"
"I did. She was very young then."
"Do you find her much altered?"
"A little--a very little."
Come! thought Harriet, whose keen ear discovered a slight faltering in
his carefully guarded tone. It is mutual whatever it is. That is just
what I wanted to discover. Whether or not this discovery tended to put
her into good spirits, she was unusually brilliant that evening at the
rehearsal. Everybody seemed animated by her.
Miss Campbell tried to play up to her, as the actors call it. The
officer repeated his assurance that she had a great genius for the
stage, and even Everard read his part a little as if he meant it.
Margaret was sitting by Mrs. Fitzpatrick, holding Harriet's part-book,
when Mr. Haveloc and Mr. Gage came in together. Mr. Haveloc came to Mrs.
Fitzpatrick's chair, and Mr. Gage to Margaret's.
"You have not been prevailed upon to lend your aid, Miss Capel," said
Mr. Gage.
"No," said Margaret, "happily I was not wanted."
"I could not fancy Margaret acting," said Mrs. Fitzpatrick.
"Nor I!" said Mr. Haveloc, suddenly.
Margaret blushed, and kept her eyes fixed on the book without
distinguishing a word.
"Where am I, Margaret?" asked Harriet. "What do I say next?"
Margaret had lost the place, and now her fingers trembled so much, she
could not find it. Mrs. Fitzpatrick laughed at her.
Mr. Gage took the book, and gave Harriet the cue. At last the actors
came to a conclusion. They dispersed about the room. Harriet and Miss
Campbell were drinking coffee, and declaring themselves parched with
thirst.
The officer brought himself and his coffee cup to Margaret's chair, "and
hoped she had been amused, and trusted he should presently hear her
sing; and begged that she would not laugh at him when he acted on
Monday."
Those who knew her well, could have detected beneath the passive
civility of her manner, that she was very little disposed to laugh at
him, for there was something in the texture of her mind that made common
people exceedingly repulsive to her, and a coarser piece of Dowlas than
this officer seldom issued, even out of a barrack.
The chords of the harp were now heard from the adjoining drawing-room.
Miss Campbell was performing a fantasia. Harriet came into the library
snapping her fan, and looking discomposed.
"She is a fixture," said Mrs. Gage, pointing with her fan in the
direction of the sounds; "it is so vexatious, for I had set my mind on
Margaret singing the scene from 'Der Freischutz.'"
Lucy, to whom this speech was addressed, laughed; and Margaret, escaping
from the officer, joined them, and learned the cause of offence.
"My dear Harriet," said Margaret, "I will sing to you at any time. Do
forgive Miss Campbell."
"I will not, she does it on purpose, it is managed between her and Lady
James, to keep you from the piano. How I detest red hair!"
Margaret laughed: "Do not detest it in the present instance, while it is
connected with so charming a voice. If I had been quite--well--last
night, how I should have enjoyed that romance of Schubert's."
There was something in her voice, her slight hesitation, that was very
touching. Harriet caught her hands in hers.
"Is she not, Lucy?"
"That she is, indeed," said Lady Raymond, affectionately.
"Is--what?" said Margaret, looking frightened.
"Is a very dear little creature," said Harriet, turning away.
"I think you have quite made a conquest of Captain Smithson," said Lucy,
smiling.
Margaret shuddered.
"Oh! you shall not have him, if you don't wish it," said Lady Raymond;
"come and sit by me, until Miss Campbell has done singing. Is that you,
Mr. Haveloc? Tell us something to amuse us. Is it true that there is a
ghost at Tynebrook?"
Mr. Haveloc started, drew a chair near Lady Raymond's, and sat down:--"A
decided ghost, and no end of mysterious sounds and footsteps."
"Indeed! I hope Raymond will hear some to-morrow night. Ah!"
Lady Raymond uttered such a scream, that every one hurried into the
library, Lord Raymond among them. She had seen a flash of lightning.
"Nonsense," said Lord Raymond.
"All fancy," said Harriet.
"Talking of ghosts," said Mr. Haveloc.
"No one else saw it," said Mrs. Fitzpatrick.
While they were all speaking, and persuading Lucy that it was
impossible, such a crash of thunder burst over the house, as convinced
them that her statement was correct. Flash followed flash, and peal
rolled hoarsely after peal. Lucy and Harriet were both very much afraid
of thunder, it ran in the family. They sat white and trembling, Lucy
holding Lord Raymond's hand, and Harriet keeping Mr. Gage standing close
to her.
Now Lady Raymond was in an interesting state of health, and all the
matrons of the party surrounded her, and urged her to take some sal
volatile, and go to bed. Lucy consented to the sal volatile, but she
would not hear of going to bed--impossible! she never could sleep
during a thunder-storm.
And it was rather unfortunate that she not only refused to go to bed
herself, but would not allow any one else to do so; all the guests must
sit round, and bear her company. She suffered herself to be laid upon a
sofa, and Lord Raymond was to sit by her side, and hold her hand. She
would not ever hear of the officer going home. She said it would be
tempting Providence; and was quite miserable till he seated himself in
an arm-chair among the others, thinking of the day of Judgment, and
wishing he could drown the thought in brandy and cigars.
It was a dreadful storm; there were no pauses between the rapid
explosions, the intolerable glare of the lightning. Even Mrs.
Fitzpatrick sat with white lips. Harriet was crying on Mr. Gage's
shoulder; Everard, tired of sitting up, was snoring in an arm-chair.
Margaret looked round, wondering at the terror they all seemed to feel.
They must be _very_ happy she thought to feel such fear at the remote
danger which attends such a scene.
She looked involuntarily for Mr. Haveloc, he was not in the room. Still
the storm did not abate. George Gage, who had been supporting Harriet
for an hour without repining, now looked at his watch.
"Twelve o'clock! I say Harriet, would you mind Everard looking after
you, while I went to smoke a cigar?"
"Oh! hear him--how profane he is!" sobbed Harriet, "to talk of smoking,
with that--oh, gracious! that dreadful noise going on!"
"Well, I will not if you have any dislike--"
"By Jove, I must be off now," said Captain Smithson rising.
"No! for Heaven's sake don't be imprudent, Captain Smithson," cried
Lucy, looking up, "you will be killed."
"And if you are," said Harriet, drying her eyes, "it will never do; for
we shall not be able to find another 'father,' by Monday."
"No, no, come with me Smithson," said Mr. Gage. "There Harriet. I am
sure you don't mind it now, only look at Miss Capel."
But not an inch would Harriet let him stir. Captain Smithson longing for
something to drink, made a sign to Mr. Gage, and slipped out. Margaret
did not like the idea of waiting there till morning. She remembered that
the conservatory commanded a very extensive view that reached to the
sea; and she thought how grand that rich expanse of country would look,
when summoned into life by each vivid flash of lightning.
Miss Campbell well knowing that the sickly fairness of her complexion
would not stand late hours, had managed to steal off to bed. Margaret
thought she should be able to follow her example--she moved gently to
the door, and as no voice was raised in disapproval of her attempt, she
hurried through the empty drawing-room, gained the hall, ran across, and
into the large conservatory. As the house stood upon high ground, nearly
twenty miles of country were visible between the windows and the sea. On
one side a steep hill rose clothed with trees, so as almost to shut out
the sky, and swept abruptly down to the level ground, where copse and
thicket, and fertile meadows succeeded each other in many tinted chequer
work, mingled with hamlets and solitary church spires. All was dark as
night--a lamp hung over the door which led to the conservatory, but this
did not serve to light more than a few yards of the marble pathway,
which led between the orange trees. Margaret walked to the end of the
path, and waited for a flash. It came, and for a single moment every
tree and every roof in the wide landscape was seen bathed in light
beneath the angry sky--the silver strip of sea on the horizon glancing
like a mirror, beneath the black clouds. It was a grand spectacle, as
the keen lightning was seen ripping up the dark masses, or dropping like
a quivering dart into the thick tree tops. And the sudden darkness, and
the solemn thunder rolling fainter and more faint, seemed to complete
the magnificence of the hour.
At length, the interval between the peals became longer, and Margaret
who had been conscious of no fatigue while watching the storm, began to
feel sleepy and exhausted. After waiting some minutes, during which,
such was the stillness, she could hear her own pulse, she turned away,
and saying half to herself, "It is over, now;" she moved slowly down the
path.
All at once a sharp light blazed across her eyes--a peal that deafened
her--a crash--a sound as of musquetry just over head--a quick shower of
hail and broken glass together, rattling upon the marble pavement. She
raised her arms, as if to save herself, when she was suddenly seized,
and whirled out into the hall so quickly, that she lost her breath,
almost her senses.
"Are you hurt?"
Margaret looked up at her questioner. The rattling noise of the breaking
glass--the tremendous sound above, that seemed to rock the walls of the
house, so sudden, so bewildering, frightened away her voice. She looked
round in complete amaze. She was sitting on one of the hall chairs, and
Mr. Haveloc supporting her, kneeling by her side.
"Are you not hurt?" he asked again.
She passed her hand over her eyes, and gazed around, still confused.
"No," said she, "what was it?"
"The hail came suddenly," he said.
"Yes, it did--but--were you there?" she asked.
"I was."
"The storm was--very--beautiful," said she losing her voice in tears
before the words were ended.
"I was not watching the storm," he replied.
Overcome by agitation and fright, her nerves thoroughly unstrung by the
feelings of the few preceding days, she covered her face with her
hands, and gave way to her tears. There was a silence, only broken by
her heavy sobs. The thunder had ceased,--the hail was over, only the
large fast drops of rain fell splashing among the stiff orange leaves.
"Margaret," he said, "tell me now. What have I done?"
"Nothing--nothing!" she faltered through her tears.
"Then it was for no fault of mine; the change was in yourself," said he
suddenly. "You had seen--you had loved; and it has been your turn to
suffer."
"I have suffered, Claude," said Margaret withdrawing her hands from her
face.
Her voice, her aspect, so inimitably tender and mournful, struck him to
the heart.
She had gained courage and composure, and went on.
"And it is a comfort to me to have seen and spoken with you once again,"
said she; "because having done you an injustice, in my thoughts, I am
glad to tell you so. I am pleased to think that you acted as I should
have most desired, had I known the facts which were so cruelly perverted
to me. But still--I hope," she added, as she rose to go, "that as I must
remain here for the present, you will not often come to the house,
because the sight of you reminds me too forcibly of those old times."
How exquisitely graceful she looked; with that imploring attitude--that
bashful entreaty in her gesture.
"But, I don't understand--" he said, detaining her.
"No--it is a long story," said Margaret sadly.
"But why not tell it me? Have I not a right to know it? I, who love you
better than anything in the world?"
Her smiles came back--her blushes.
"If you wish it," she said, "only not now. Still I must say for myself,
that every one believed as I did. Even your friends here, entirely
thought so till Mrs. Fitzpatrick set them right."
"But--believed what?"
"That you were engaged to Miss Fitzpatrick."
"What--engaged--and when? Good Heavens! And you, Margaret--to Miss
Fitzpatrick! How could you believe such an incredible lie?"
"Don't ask me, Claude," said Margaret, feeling as if it really had been
too bad in her to credit her own eyesight, as well as the assurance of
every one she came near.
"And this is what has parted us for two years. Miss Fitzpatrick--but it
is all clear now. You are satisfied--you are mine again--say so."
"You are a tyrant, Claude."
"But say it."
"I do say it--there, some one is coming. I must go."
Margaret flew up stairs. The ladies, satisfied that the storm was over,
now came out, pale with fear and watching. Harriet's keen eye espied
Mr. Haveloc leaning against the door of the conservatory.
"Marius among the ruins of Carthage," said she with a laugh.
"Marius! Mrs. Gage, can you say nothing better for me than that? Will
you come to-morrow and fish with us?"
"Well; that is not a bad idea. I can throw a fly in a way that will make
you jealous. Can you lend me a fishing-rod?"
"Twenty."
"And you don't mean to set out at an uncouth hour to-morrow?"
"Not at all--two or three o'clock."
"But I shall be jealous," said Lucy. "Do you not ask me to come too?"
"By all means; bring all the ladies who like angling. Lady James, will
you answer for Miss Campbell?"
"I shall bring Margaret, I know;" said Harriet quickly.
"Do--if Miss Capel will come;" said he with a peculiar smile.
"I shall ask no questions;" said Harriet coolly. "I shall pack her up in
a band-box, and take her; though she cannot angle like some people!"
"No; she cannot angle," said Mr. Haveloc; laughing at the angry
expression in Harriet's face.
"Ah! you think yourselves, too deep for me;" said Harriet turning and
walking upstairs; "but I would have you look sharp; for I know the
symptoms."