'Sober nonsense!—drink some claret: I'm sure you must want some, for there's nothing but sawdust in Valary's cellar, I'll answer for it.'
'Well, now, listen to me,' said the doctor. 'I know I have given some false alarms; but this is no false alarm; and I promise you, if I am proved an ignoramus this time, to let things go as they will hereafter without interfering. As to seeing poor Marjory wither away without stirring a hand to help, or raising a voice for her, that man is not a man who could do it.'
'I honour you. Chivalry for ever! And poor little Madge, that I haven't spoken to since she was a few inches long, shall have help, and we'll all go to their rescue—say to-morrow morning.'
'Ah! that's of no use. Sir Valary had a bad fit yesterday. If another should come, his mind may not be clear, and he wishes for reconciliation: he does, I am convinced.'
'Ah! but you have a happy knack of being convinced of whatever you happen to wish. Now, I daresay you were quite convinced that I should return with you to-night.'
'Till I saw you, I confess,' said the doctor somewhat ruefully; 'but I might have known better.'
'Of course you might; hasn't he had the same fits for years, and is his intellect any the worse?'
The stranger interposed. 'You'll excuse my speaking' (to Mr. Brimble); 'but what if Dr. Cruden were to give a narrative of the facts that brought him to-night? If you'd give a patient hearing, you might judge whether the doctor's anxiety has magnified the necessity for prompt measures.'
'Capital plan,' said the squire. 'Go on, doctor; I'll listen. Jobson, pass the wine: it'll be a new story to you, but an old one to me; but mind, facts—no mysteries: they're altogether out of my way.'
'Well, there is a mystery now at Parker's Dew,' said the doctor.