“I am sorry for Mr. Burton and am glad Jack would not let him go away,” said the kind spinster.
“Well I am not,” cried Chapman savagely, notwithstanding his fatigue.
“They would better let him go. This misfortune is the physical one that long ago I told you was possible. The next may be spiritual and result in some emotional or fanatic outburst of barbarous religious fervor that may again disgrace us all. Then may develop the bestial propensities of the sensual nature of savages and may result in crime and ruin the house of Dunlap forever.”
“David, go to bed and rest. You are worn out and conjure up imaginary horrors purely by reason of nervousness and weariness,” said the sister soothingly.
“You maintained months ago that the danger of breeding back was imaginary. What do you think now? The other things that I suggest as possible, are inherent in Burton’s blood and may tell their story yet.”
Chapman, though weak, became vehement immediately upon the mention of this unfortunate subject. It required all the persuasion and diplomacy of his good sister to get him to desist and finally to retire to his bed room for the rest that was so needed by the worn out man.