Next morning she proceeded to carry her ideas into effect, for after Miss Cassy and Una had paid their usual morning visit, she found herself alone with the squire and in a position to make her request.
Garsworth was lying in bed, propped up by pillows, and looked very feeble indeed, so that Patience saw the end could not be far off, in spite of Nestley's care and attention.
After his recovery from his debauch, Nestley had felt bitter shame at his fall, but having lost his self-respect by thus reverting to his old ways, he tried to drown remorse by drinking, and alcohol was rapidly regaining all its old influence over him. Still he did not let it interfere with his attendance on the Squire, and if the old man saw that Nestley's hand was shaky, and his eyes becoming bleared, he said nothing, and the unhappy young man performed his duties in a mechanical way, drinking deeply whenever an opportunity offered.
Nestley, looking haggard and unsteady after his drinking of the previous night, had just left the room, leaving Patience alone with the Squire, when the old man spoke sharply:
"Patience, what is the matter with the doctor?"
"Drink!" she answered laconically.
"Drink!" repeated the Squire, raising himself on his elbow. "Nonsense, woman, you must be mistaken, he drinks neither wine nor spirits."
"He never did until a week ago," answered Patience coolly, "he used to be a total abstainer, but now--well, you can see for yourself."
The long connection that had existed between this strange couple as master and servant, had developed between them a certain amount of familiarity.
"I remember," said Garsworth musingly, "that in my last incarnation, I drank ale very much--it was in the reign of Elizabeth, and we drank confusion to the King of Spain--it resulted in confusion to myself. If I had not been a drunkard, I would not have been a pauper; it's a pity this young man should follow the same downward path."