“I don't suspect he has got so many as twenty years before him.”
“If he wants to live, sir, he 'll do it. Ah, you may laugh, sir, but I have known him all my life, and I never saw the man like him to do the thing he wishes to do.”
“Cut me some of that beef, Fenton, and fetch me some draught beer. How these old tyrants make slaves of their servants,” said he, aloud, as the man left the room,—“a slavery that enthralls mind as well as body.” A gentle tap came to the door, and before Sewell could question the summons, Miss Lendrick entered. She greeted him cordially, and said how anxiously her grandfather had waited for him till midnight. “I don't know when I saw him so eager or so impatient,” she said.
“Have you any clew to his reason for sending for me?” said he, as he continued to eat, and assumed an air of perfect unconcern.
“None whatever. He came into my room about two o'clock, and told me to write his message in a good bold hand; he seemed in his usual health, and his manner displayed nothing extraordinary. He questioned me about the time it would take to transmit the message from the town to your house, and seemed satisfied when I said about half an hour.”
“It's just as likely, perhaps, to be some caprice,—some passing fancy.”
She shook her head dissentingly, but made no reply.
“I believe the theory of this house is, 'he can do no wrong,'” said Sewell, with a laugh.
“He is so much more able in mind than all around him, such a theory might prevail; but I 'll not go so far as to say that it does.”
“It's not his mind gives him his pre-eminence, Miss Lucy,—it's his temper; it's that same strong will that overcomes weaker natures by dint of sheer force. The people who assert their own way in life are not the most intellectual, they are only the best bullies.”