Ramsden remained a few minutes at the door, until he saw Newton ascend the side of the vessel; then he entered, and was received by Betsy.
“Well, Betsy, you agreed to make Mrs Forster believe that Mr Spinney was dead; but we little thought that such would really be the case.”
“Lord love you, sir! why you don’t say so?”
“I do, indeed, Betsy; but mind, we must keep it a secret for the present, until we can get Mrs Forster out of the way. How is she this morning?”
“Oh, very stiff, and very cross, sir.”
“I’ll go up to her,” replied Ramsden “but recollect, Betsy, that you do not mention it to a soul;” and Ramsden ascended the stairs.
“Well, Mrs Forster, how do you feel this morning? do you think you could get up?”
“Get up, Mr Ramsden! not to save my soul—I can’t even turn on my side.”
“Very sorry to hear it, indeed,” replied the surgeon; “I was in hopes that you might have been able to bear a journey.”
“Bear a journey, Mr Ramsden! why bear a journey?”