The doctor promised and kept his word. By eight o’clock all lights were out; Hugh was stretched on a rough pallet in his father’s room with Agrippa, at whom Mistress Prothasy looked askance, by his side, and all was silent, indoors and out, save for the quick laboured breathing of the sick man.
Chapter Seven.
In the Warden’s Household.
It was doubtless a satisfaction to the leech’s astrological mind to ascertain that, beyond a question, malignant conjunctions were threatening Stephen Bassett. But without this profound knowledge it was evident to the watchers that Master Gervase had brought home a dying man, who would not long be spared. He rallied a little, it is true, and though at times light-headed, and always taking young Mistress Prothasy to be his lost Alice, could understand and be grateful for the kindness shown him, and speak feebly to Hugh about his work. The prior’s letter had been taken to the Franciscan monastery, but no sign was given by that house of the kindly hospitality shown in London.
“I knew it,” said Elyas, with some triumph to his wife. “When the boy told me whither they were bound, I could not bear they should have no more comfort than they would get from that fat prior. Now, the poor man shall want nothing.”
“Truly, no,” said Prothasy, quite as heartily. “But it were best that our little Joan remained away a little longer with thy mother.”
“I suppose so,” answered her husband, with a sigh. “The house seems strangely silent without Joan.”
“We must have sent her away had she been here,” she said decidedly.