And here we may likewise remark that Swinton was no niggard of his good cheer. If he kept an excellent table, he liked to see justice done to the viands served up; and, as he received handsome remuneration from the friends of his first-class patients, he could well afford to regale them sumptuously, and amass a splendid fortune out of them into the bargain.
In conversation of the trivial kind of which we have just recorded a specimen, did the Doctor and Sheepshanks pass the time during supper,—the patients all maintaining a profound silence, and conducting themselves with the most perfect propriety. Indeed, were it not for a certain vacancy in the eyes of some, and a peculiar but inexplicable expression in the looks of the rest, it were impossible for a stranger to believe that there were any lunatics at all in the room.
After supper Mr. Sheepshanks delivered himself of a long prayer;—but as his libations had been somewhat copious, in spite of his bilious attack, his voice was occasionally so thick as to be unintelligible,—and it appeared as if he at times fancied himself to be an Irvingite speaking in the unknown tongues. Towards the conclusion of his oration, which very much resembled a funeral sermon in those parts where the meaning and sense could be caught, the reverend gentleman became so much affected that he began to weep; and had a maliciously-disposed person been present, he would have probably entertained the derogatory notion that Mr. Sheepshanks was in that maudlin condition vulgarly termed “crying drunk.”
However, the affair passed off to the satisfaction of the worthy Doctor, who, as he thought of all that his chaplain had eaten and drunk during the evening, felt really proud of having beneath his roof a man of such splendid qualifications.
The after-supper oration being concluded, the keepers, all dressed in plain clothes, made their appearance to conduct the patients to their respective chambers; but as this was Granby’s first night in the house, the Doctor volunteered to show him to the apartment prepared for his reception.
The new inmate of the asylum immediately obeyed the hint which the physician gave him relative to the hour for retiring; and he was forthwith escorted up a handsome staircase to a long corridor on the second floor. From this passage, which was carpeted, adorned with statues in recesses, and lighted by lamps hanging to the ceiling, opened several rooms, the doors of which were numbered.
At the entrance to the passage the Doctor pulled a wire which communicated with a bell on the storey overhead; and a matronly, respectable-looking woman made her appearance in answer to the summons.
“Which chamber is Mr. Granby to occupy, Mrs. Probert?” said the Doctor to his housekeeper—for such was the situation filled by the female.
“I have moved the gentleman—you know whom I mean, sir—that was in Number 7——”
“Ah! I understand,” interrupted the physician, with some degree of impatience, as if he were afraid that his housekeeper was about to be more communicative than was necessary in the presence of the stranger. “Well—you have removed a certain person——”