“His Grace seems to ramble in his mind a good deal more than he did before luncheon. Do you see a change in this respect—say week by week?”
“It is not observable in gradations, Lord Julius,” answered the physician, a stout, sandy young man, who assumed his air of deference with considerable awkwardness; “sometimes he recovers a very decided lucidity after what had seemed to be a prolonged lapse in the other direction. But on the whole I should say there was a perceptible—well, loss of faculty. He knows the dogs, however, quite as well as ever—distinguishes them apparently by touch, remembers all their names, and recalls anecdotes about them, and, very often, about their mothers too. Fletcher tells me His Grace hasn’t once miscalled a hound.”
“They make an abominable atmosphere up here,” commented the other.
The doctor smiled lugubriously. “I can’t deny that, Lord Julius,” he replied, “but all the same they are the most important part of the treatment. If we took them away, His Grace would die within the week.”
“Unhappy dogs!” mused Lord Julius, partly to himself, and walked on. It was not until they were half-way down the big staircase that Christian felt impelled to speak.
“I should much like to know,” he began, with diffident eagerness—“you have already spoken so plainly about my grandfather—the question will not seem rude to him, I hope—but when he was well, before the paralysis, was he in any respect like what he is now?”
“I should say,” answered Lord Julius, in a reflective way, “that he is at present rather less objectionable than formerly. One can make the excuse of illness for him now—and that covers a multitude of sins. But when he was in health—and he had the superb—what shall I say?—riotous health of a whale—he was very hard to bear. You have seen him and you have observed his mental and moral elevation. He remembers his dogs more distinctly than he does his children. In the Almanach de Gotha he is classed among princes, but what he dwells upon most fondly among his public duties is the kicking of tenant-farmers in the stomach when they try to save their crops from being ruined by the hunt. I may tell you, I was in two minds about taking you to him at all, and now I think I regret having done so.”
“No-o,” said Christian, thoughtfully. “It is better as it is. I am glad to have seen him, and to have you tell me about him, frankly, as you have done. It all helps me to understand the position—and it seems that there is a great deal that needs to be understood. I can see already that there is strange blood in the Torrs.” He paused on the bottom step as he spoke, and turned to his companion with a wistful smile. “There is an even bolder question I should like to ask—how does it happen that you are so different? How do you account for yourself?”
Lord Julius laughed. “Oh, that is a long story,” he said, “but I can put it into a word for you. I was made by my wife. I married a woman so noble and clever and wise and strong that I couldn’t help becoming a decent sort of fellow in spite of myself. But I am going to talk to you about all that, later on. It is better worth talking about than anything else under the sun. Oh—Barlow, please!”
The old butler had passed from one door to another in the hall, and turned now as he was called, with a hand behind him upon the knob. Lord Julius, approaching, exchanged some words with him upon the subject of his afternoon’s plans.