“And what might the expense be?”
“A couple of hundred—say three hundred pounds, would perhaps suffice.”
“Go upstairs and see my granddaughter. She is very nervous and feverish; calm her mind so far as you are able; say that we are concerting measures for her brother's benefit; and by the time you shall come down again I will have made up my mind what to do.”
Beattie was a valued friend of Lucy's, and she was glad to see him enter her room, but she would not suffer him to speak of herself; it was of poor Tom alone she would talk. She heard with delight the generous intentions of her grandfather, and exclaimed with rapture,—“This is his real nature, and yet it is only by the little foibles of his temper that the world knows him; but we, doctor,—we, who see him as he is, know how noble-hearted and affectionate he can be!”
“I must hasten back to him,” said Beattie, after a short space; “for should he decide on sending out a doctor, I must lose no time, as I must return to see this young fellow at Killaloe to-morrow.”
“Oh, in my greater anxieties I forgot him! How is he,—can he recover?”
“Yes, I regard him as out of danger,—that is, if Lady Trafford can be persuaded not to talk him into a relapse.”
“Lady Trafford! who is she?”
“His mother; she arrived last night.”
“And his name is Trafford, and his Christian name Lionel?”