‘Far worse. I never saw John in this immediate danger.’
‘Did this attack begin directly after you came?’
‘It was the effort of speaking. He WOULD try to say something about racing debts—Gardner, papers in his coat-pocket, and there broke down, coughed, and the bleeding came on. There is something on his mind, poor—’
Theodora made a sign to remind him of Johnnie’s presence; but the child came forward. ‘Grandpapa, he told me to tell you something,’ and, with eyes bent on the ground, the little fellow repeated the words like a lesson by rote.
Lord Martindale was much overcome; he took his grandson on his knee, and pressed him to his breast without being able to speak, then, as if to recover composure by proceeding to business, he sent him to ask James for the coat last worn by his papa, and bring the papers in the pocket. Then with more agitation he continued, ‘Yes, yes, that was what poor Arthur’s eyes were saying all the time. I could only promise to settle everything and take care of her; and there was she, poor thing, with a face like a martyr, supporting his head, never giving way, speaking now and then so calmly and soothingly, when I could not have said a word. I do believe she is almost an angel!’ said Lord Martindale, with a burst of strong emotion. ‘Take care of her! She will not want that long! at this rate. Harding tells me he is very anxious about her: she is not by any means recovered, yet he was forced to let her sit up all last night, and she has been on her feet this whole day! What is to become of her and these poor children? It is enough to break one’s heart!’
Here Johnnie came back. ‘Grandpapa, we cannot find any papers. James has looked in all the clothes papa wore when he came home, and he did not bring home his portmanteau.’
‘Come home! Where had he been?’
‘I don’t know. He was away a long time.’
Lord Martindale started, and repeated the words in amaze. Theodora better judged of a child’s ‘long time,’ and asked whether it meant a day or a week. ‘Was it since the baby was born that he went?’
‘Baby was a week old. He was gone one—two Sundays, and he came back all on a sudden the day before yesterday, coughing so much that he could not speak, and the gentleman told mamma all about it.’