“Ah!” exclaimed Mrs. Stratton. “Then my brother had not entirely taken leave of his senses.”
“My dear Milly!” said her husband soothingly.
“Well, and what do you say?” Mrs. Stratton asked me eagerly. “Of course you will decline?”
“Before Dr. Greville comes to any decision,” the lawyer interposed, “there is a letter from the testator which he ought to read. It was included among the papers of the deceased, and would have been handed to Dr. Greville earlier had he not been called away.”
“But there is no need for time or consideration to be given to such a simple matter as this,” said Mrs. Stratton. “It is obvious on the face of it that a busy country doctor, living alone, can have no fitness for such a delicate task as the bringing up of a girl from seven to twenty. It’s preposterous, and any real friend of my brother would agree.”
“In any case,” said the lawyer, “I don’t think that Dr. Greville should, in fairness to himself and to every one concerned, be rushed into a decision. Here, sir, is the letter”; and he handed me an envelope, which I had the prudence to put in my pocket.
And so doing, I rose and left. It is one of the rare compensations in a general practitioner’s life that he can go when he likes and without ceremony. I don’t say that an engagement is always awaiting us; but it is our privilege first to suggest it and secondly to be exempted from cross-examination.
As soon as I was alone I read Theodore’s letter. I can give its exact words, as it is one of the very few that I have kept.
“Dear Greville,” he wrote. “I’ve been eating oysters and they’ve got me. There’s only a muddler of a doctor here and I have no hope anyway. One knows when one’s number is up. The only thing that really worries me is Rose. Be a good fellow and take charge of her and bring her up to beat the band. I can’t bear the thought of Milly getting at her and making her just like all the other women in the world. I’ve made my will, and the Consul here has witnessed it, so you will find everything in order. I wish I’d done more with my life, but I haven’t had a bad time and, after all, after a certain age one day may as well be one’s last as another. I hate not to see you again, and as for Rose. . .”
Here the letter broke off.