CHAPTER XXXVI
Carrie, Philip, and Sebastian formed a curious little household for the next few weeks. Sebastian, who was first a doctor and then a man, deferred his judgment upon Philip’s case in the meantime, and directed his energies to Philip’s recovery. This, with a vigorous young constitution, was not very prolonged, and he was soon going about as usual, only with the maimed hand in a sling. Then, and not till then, Sebastian began to study Philip’s character very carefully. He would sit in silence and look at the young man, puzzling what the truth of this strange business was. For the life of him Sebastian could not resist the charm of Phil’s manner, and found himself unconsciously joining in his jests and his talk; but every one did that—what surprised him much more was to find that he esteemed Philip in his more serious moments. When Philip chose to be serious he was terribly in earnest, compelling attention to his subject, and Sebastian could scarcely believe the evidence of his senses when first he heard him speak in this way.
It was one evening as the two men sat alone together, Carrie having gone out of the room, that Philip began to speak of the future.
‘You know, sir,’ he said, ‘I must begin to earn my living—I cannot let you support my wife, far less myself, and I do not suppose that the fortune which my father meant to leave me can be mine now. Even if it were, I scarce think I could touch it while all the world supposes me to be his murderer.’
Sebastian was silent for a moment, and Phil turned quickly and looked at him.
‘Do you think I did that, sir?’ he asked.
‘If you did, you have the most extraordinary easy conscience of any man I have ever met,’ said Sebastian.
Phil gave a light little sigh. ‘Well, sir, ’tis more than generous of you to house a murderer, even for the sake of your dear daughter.—But to return to what I spoke of first. Murderer or no, I cannot let another man work for me and be idle myself, yet I fear, with the stigma that’s on me now, I can scarce hope for success in any profession here. Sir, do you think I should leave England and make a home for my wife elsewhere?’
‘Yes,’ said Sebastian slowly; ‘I fear ’tis your only chance. But leave Carrie with me meantime—a living, far less a competency, is none so easy to make, as you’ll find when you begin to try to make one.’
‘Oh, I’ve been deucedly rich!’ cried Phil. ‘I should have been working years ago; but I’ll work now like twelve men, sir, to make up for lost time. Tell me, sir, isn’t work a splendid thing? Now, when I see you each day with more than you can overtake, I wish from my heart I’d belonged always to those that toil. Some fraction of it all must live, you know, even of work like yours, sir, that appears to be only from day to day, ’tis really moving the world on. Our horrible idle days are dead before they are half lived!’