Dr. Torvey's Opinion
When Lady Walsingham reached the head of the stairs, she met her maid,
and from her learned that her sister, Lady Mardykes, was downstairs in
the same room. On approaching, she heard her sister Mary's voice talking
with her, and found them together. Mary, finding that she could not
sleep, had put on her clothes again, and come down to keep her sister
company. The room looked more comfortable now. There were candles
lighted, and a good fire burnt in the grate; tea-things stood on a
little table near the fire, and the two sisters were talking, Lady
Mardykes appearing more collected, and only they two in the room.
"Have you seen him, Maud?" cried Lady Mardykes, rising and hastily
approaching her the moment she entered.
"Yes, dear; and talked with him, and----"
"Well?"
"And I think very much as I did before. I think he is nervous, he says
he is not ill; but he is nervous and whimsical, and as men always are
when they happen to be out of sorts, very positive; and of course the
only thing that can quite undeceive him is the lapse of the time he has
fixed for his prediction, as it is sure to pass without any tragic
result of any sort. We shall then all see alike the nature of his
delusion."
"O, Maud, if I were only sure you thought so! if I were sure you really
had hopes! Tell me, Maud, for God's sake, what you really think."
Lady Walsingham was a little disconcerted by the unexpected directness
of her appeal.
"Come, darling, you must not be foolish," she said; "we can only talk of
impressions, and we are imposed upon by the solemnity of his manner, and
the fact that he evidently believes in his own delusion; every one does
believe in his own delusion--there is nothing strange in that."
"O, Maud, I see you are not convinced; you are only trying to comfort
me. You have no hope--none, none, none!" and she covered her face with
her hands, and wept again convulsively.
Lady Walsingham was silent for a moment, and then with an effort said,
as she placed her hand on her sister's arm, "You see, dear Janet, there
is no use in my saying the same thing over and over again; an hour or
two will show who is right. Sit down again, and be like yourself. My
maid told me that you had sent to the parlour for Doctor Torvey; he must
not find you so. What would he think? Unless you mean to tell him of
Bale's strange fancy; and a pretty story that would be to set afloat in
Golden Friars. I think I hear him coming."
So, in effect, he was. Doctor Torvey--with the florid gravity of a man
who, having just swallowed a bottle of port, besides some glasses of
sherry, is admitted to the presence of ladies whom he respects--entered
the room, made what he called his "leg and his compliments," and awaited
the ladies' commands.
"Sit down, Doctor Torvey," said Lady Walsingham, who in the incapacity
of her sister undertook the doing of the honours. "My sister, Lady
Mardykes, has got it into her head somehow that Sir Bale is ill. I have
been speaking to him; he certainly does not look very well, but he says
he is quite well. Do you think him well?--that is, we know you don't
think there is anything of importance amiss--but she wishes to know
whether you think him _perfectly_ well."
The Doctor cleared his voice and delivered his lecture, a little thickly
at some words, upon Sir Bale's case; the result of which was that it was
no case at all; and that if he would only live something more of a
country gentleman's life, he would be as well as any man could
desire--as well as any man, gentle or simple, in the country.
"The utmost I should think of doing for him would be, perhaps, a little
quinine, nothing mo'--shurely--he is really and toory a very shoun'
shtay of health."
Lady Walsingham looked encouragingly at her sister and nodded.
"I've been shen' for, La'y Walsh--Walse--Walsing--_ham_; old Jack
Amerald--he likshe his glass o' port," he said roguishly, "and shuvversh
accord'n'ly," he continued, with a compassionating paddle of his right
hand; "one of thoshe aw--odd feels in his stomach; and as I have pretty
well done all I can man-n'ge down here, I must be off, ye shee. Wind up
from Golden Friars, and a little flutter ovv zhnow, thazh all;" and with
some remarks about the extreme cold of the weather, and the severity of
their night journey, and many respectful and polite parting speeches,
the Doctor took his leave; and they soon heard the wheels of his gig and
the tread of his horse, faint and muffled from the snow in the
court-yard, and the Doctor, who had connected that melancholy and
agitated household with the outer circle of humanity, was gone.
There was very little snow falling, half-a-dozen flakes now and again,
and their flight across the window showed, as the Doctor had in a manner
boasted, that the wind was in his face as he returned to Golden Friars.
Even these desultory snow-flakes ceased, at times, altogether; and
returning, as they say, "by fits and starts," left for long intervals
the landscape, under the brilliant light of the moon, in its wide white
shroud. The curtain of the great window had not been drawn. It seemed to
Lady Walsingham that the moonbeams had grown more dazzling, that Snakes
Island was nearer and more distinct, and the outstretched arm of the old
tree looked bigger and angrier, like the uplifted arm of an assassin,
who draws silently nearer as the catastrophe approaches.
Cold, dazzling, almost repulsive in this intense moonlight and white
sheeting, the familiar landscape looked in the eyes of Lady Walsingham.
The sisters gradually grew more and more silent, an unearthly suspense
overhung them all, and Lady Mardykes rose every now and then and
listened at the open door for step or voice in vain. They all were
overpowered by the intenser horror that seemed gathering around them.
And thus an hour or more passed.