“Dear Sir,—I have accidentally heard that Sir Henry Morland will be at Wrexham this evening. If it be your wish to see him at Dalradern, pray inform me by the bearer.
“Very respectfully your Servant,
“Pritchard Price.”
Sir Within at once addressed a most curt and conciliatory note to Doctor Price, requesting to see him and his colleague as soon as would suit his convenience. That there was something for which an apology was needed, he knew; but what it was, how it occurred, or why it occurred, was totally beyond him; his note, however, was polite in every respect, and its conclusion actually friendly. Doctor Price, however, did not make his appearance, but towards midnight a post-chaise drove into the court-yard, and the great town Physician entered the castle. He was a short, stout-built, heavy-browed man, stern, and almost peremptory in his manner, reserving all his mind for his patient, and scarcely condescending to notice the friends of the sick person.
“Who is it?” asked he bluntly of Sir Within, as the old envoy politely handed him a chair.
“My ward, Sir Henry, a young lady not fully seventeen.”
“Humph! I did not know you were married.”
“I am not married, Sir. I was not aware that we were discussing that question.”
“Let me speak with your sister, then?”
“I have no sister, Sir.”