“You can, Sir, if you think yourself able,” replied Mr Everett. “I believe we may trust you, for you are aware of the importance of self-command just now. I advise you to take a glass of wine, and then go and speak to your friend, and we will call you when we want you.”
Charles did so.
“Your mother has gone to lie down,” he whispered; “by the time she wakes, we shall have comfort to give her, and you will be better able to see her.”
Monteath pressed his hand. “I am better than I was,” said he; “stronger in mind, too. I do believe I dreaded seeing my mother more than any thing else.”
Mr Everett now approached the bed, and in a short time, which, however, appeared to Charles as if it never would be over, the painful thing was done, and Monteath was in bed again. Charles remained beside him, and in an hour the patient was once more in a sound sleep. Mr Everett went then to tell his father and mother what had been done. They were dreadfully agitated at first, but the sight of their son in deep repose calmed them, and every thing was soon so comfortably arranged, that Charles thought his assistance was no longer needed. He went to bed, rested till the middle of the day, and in the afternoon proceeded with Mr Everett to Exeter, the assistant being left behind with the patient, and Mr Everett promising to return the next day but one. Monteath did not | know how to express his gratitude, and his parents’ acknowledgments were painful to Charles, who felt that in common humanity he could not have done less than he had done. They however thought differently, and were grateful, not only for what he had done, but for the manner of doing it; and felt very sure, that, painful as that night had been to Charles, every recollection of it would bring pleasure as long as he lived. He promised his friend that he would not return to London without seeing him, and then set off, wondering when he thought that his acquaintance with Monteath had been of only twenty-four hours’ standing, and that, in that time, he had been called on to perform more painful offices of kindness, than generally devolve upon intimate friends during a connexion of many years.
“At this hour yesterday,” thought Charles, “we met for the first time, and now we are perhaps friends for life. It has been proved, by a fiery trial, that Monteath has many virtues. I know, beyond a doubt, that he is religious, that he is attached to his family, that he is considerate to others, that he is courageous and patient. This is a great deal to have learned in twenty-four hours. If I were to consider myself alone, I might rejoice in this accident. I have gained a valuable friend, and received a lesson which I shall never forget, at the expense of only a few hours of salutary pain. But I am the last person to be considered. Better fruits even than these may spring from this calamity, to those who have at present suffered more from it.”
The journey with Mr Everett was cheerful and pleasant. Charles had now the opportunity of learning a great deal about his sister Jane; and all that he heard gave him pleasure. His home and its inmates had been forgotten for some hours, but now he began again to anticipate the pleasures of meeting, though with much less confidence than before. At first he felt almost sure that something would yet happen to delay their meeting; but when they were within five miles of the city, he began to recognise some well-known object at every step, and to feel a quieter hope that at length he should reach his journey’s end in peace. He started up at the first sight of the Cathedral towers, and gazed at them till he actually passed them. Then he looked for familiar faces, and as the chaise turned the corner into the market-place, a boy looked up from the foot pavement, who, tall as he was, could, Charles was sure, be no other than Alfred. “It is Alfred,” said Mr Everett, “going home to tea, I guess. You will find them just sitting down to tea, the lessons all learned, the business all done, and nothing to do but to talk and listen.”
The chaise stopped, and Charles was soon on his way home, with his little trunk under his arm. When Hannah answered his knock, she knew him instantly, and started back, calling, “Miss Jane, Miss Jane!”
Miss Jane rose from the tea-table, and she and Charles met at the parlour door. “Charles! my dear, dear Charles! What can have brought you? What are you here for?”
“I am come to see you, my dearest; and you, and you,” added he, turning to the others, as they pressed round him. “I am come for a whole fortnight. Now, dearest, I have taken you too much by surprise,” for Jane’s tears flowed fast. “Come, come, compose yourself. Look up, and smile at me.”