“I’ve won it!” he cried. “Thank God—thank God!” Then he fell back on the bed, and burst out crying like a child.
The doctor came in to him and gave him something, and by-and-by they got him to sleep.
“He’ll rally a bit,” said the doctor; “the excitement’s done him good, but he’ll go back again all the quicker afterwards.”
* * * * *
The next morning it was all over the village that the Squire was better, and was going back to the Hall again; that he’d come into money or something, and had bought it back again. Mr. Owen arranged everything—him and Miss Di—or Mrs. Owen, I should say.
The people came from far and near, and gathered about the old place when they heard that the Squire was coming, and they determined to give him a grand welcome.
The doctor had a long conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Owen that morning, and determined to try the experiment. He got the Squire up and dressed, and, well wrapped up, he was carried down and put in a close carriage, and then they drove away to the Hall.
The people shouted like mad when they saw the Squire coming, and they took the horses out, and dragged the carriage right up to the doors.
The landlord of the “Arms” was there in his old butler’s coat, and he received the Squire, and he was taken into the big room, which had been the justice-room, and the villagers all crowded in; and the Squire, sitting in his old easy-chair by the fire, received them, and, after he had had some stimulant, made a little speech that brought tears into the people’s eyes, and thanked them, and said he should die happy now, for he should die master of the dear old place.
* * * * *