“How d'ye do, Moss?” said Sir Charles.
“Pretty well, thank ye, sir, in my body, but uneasy in my mind. There be a trifle too many rogues afoot to please me. However, I told my mistress this morning, says I, 'Before I puts up with this here any longer, I must go over there and see him; for here's so many lies a-cutting about,' says I, 'I'm fairly mazed.' So, if you please, Sir Charles, will you be so good as to tell me out of your own mouth, and then I shall know: be you crazy or hain't you—ay or no?”
Suaby and Rolfe had much ado not to laugh right out; but Sir Charles said, gravely, he was not crazy. “Do I look crazy, Moss?”
“That ye doan't; you look twice the man you did. Why, your cheeks did use to be so pasty like; now you've got a color—but mayhap” (casting an eye on the decanters) “ye're flustered a bit wi' drink.”
“No, no,” said Rolfe, “we have not commenced our nightly debauch yet; only just done dinner.”
“Then there goes another. This will be good news to home. Dall'd if I would not ha' come them there thirty miles on all-fours for't. But, sir, if so be you are not crazy, please think about coming home, for things ain't as they should be in our parts. My lady she is away for her groaning, and partly for fear of this very Richard Bassett; and him and his lawyer they have put it about as you are dead in law; that is the word: and so the servants they don't know what to think; and the village folk are skeared with his clapping four brace on 'em in jail: and Joe and I, we wants to fight un, but my dame she is timorous, and won't let us, because of the laayer. And th' upshot is, this here Richard Bassett is master after a manner, and comes on the very lawn, and brings men with a pole measure, and uses the place as his'n mostly; but our Joe bides in the Hall with his gun, and swears he'll shoot him if he sets foot in the house. Joe says he have my lady's leave and license so to do, but not outside.”
Sir Charles turned very red, and was breathless with indignation.
Dr. Suaby looked uneasy, and said, “Control yourself, sir.'”
“I am not going to control myself,” cried Rolfe, in a rage. “Don't you take it to heart, Sir Charles. It shall not last long.”
“Ah!”