"A strange woman," thought Nestley, looking after her, "and a strange house;" then he turned to Una and Miss Cassey, who were anxiously waiting his report.
"I have given him a little wine," he said, putting on his gloves. "Keep him as quiet as possible and I'll send some opiate from Garsworth; he is in a very exhausted condition and must be kept quiet. How can I send the medicine?
"Munks will bring it when he drives you in," said Una quickly. "You will come again?"
"Yes, to-morrow morning," he replied as she opened the door, and was about to depart when Miss Cassey arrested him.
"I'll take some of the medicine myself, doctor," she said. "I'm so easily upset--nerves again--it's in the family; come and prescribe for me to-morrow--I'm so odd, I think it's the house--lonely, you know--bromide is good, isn't it? Yes, Doctor Pecks, in London, told me so. Do you know him?--No--how odd--clever on nerves--my nerves--don't forget to-morrow--good-night--charming moon--yes--so odd."
After hearing this incoherent speech, Dr. Nestley managed to get away, and saying good-night to Una, went down the steps. The dog-cart was waiting for him, and Munks, the Mute, drove him back grimly the whole way. It was quite a relief getting into the cool fresh air, and Nestley half thought the lonely house and its fantastic occupants were phantoms, so unreal did they seem.
[CHAPTER V.]
THE FAMILY CIRCLE.
But turning from these scenes of beauty rare
The family circle next demands our care,
That fireside kingdom where the father bland
His sceptre sways with firm and gentle hand.
Obedient children clust'ring round his knees
Perform with pleasure all his mild decrees,
With willing hearts upon his orders wait
Thus show example to the parent state.
Dr. Larcher, the vicar of Garsworth, was a fine type of what is called muscular Christianity. Tall, broad-shouldered and burly, he looked more like a cavalry officer than a parson, and he preached his sermons, which were generally plain and outspoken, in a loud assertive tone of voice. Being fond of archaeology and long walks he knew every inch of the country for miles round, and was as well acquainted with the poorest cottagers as with the lords of the soil. Simple, large-minded gentleman that he was, he admirably suited his position in life, and if the rustics of Garsworth had not a sound belief in the tenets of the Church of England, it was by no means the fault of the worthy vicar, who thundered out practical Christianity in ponderous Johnsonian sentences, with the zeal of a Savonarola and the eloquence of a Bossuet. He was also a great Latinist and plentifully seasoned his discourse with quotations from Horace, for which bard he professed great admiration.