'But he does not look worse?' said the vicar, lifting his eyes eagerly from his boot, which he was buttoning on the chair.
'Well, he does look more tired, but that must be till his recovery begins, which will be, please Heaven, immediately.'
'Oh, yes, my little man has had two or three attacks much more serious than this, and always shook them off so easily, I was reminding Dolly, always, and good Doctor Buddle assures us it is none of those horrid complaints.'
And so they talked over the case of the little man, who with Noah and his sons, and the battered soldiers and animals before him, was fighting, though they only dimly knew it, silently in his little bed, the great battle of life or death.
'Mr. Larkin came to me the evening before last,' said Rachel, 'and told me that the little sum I mentioned—now don't say a word till you have heard me—was not sufficient; so I want to tell you what I have quite resolved on. I have been long intending some time or other to change my place of residence, perhaps I shall go to Switzerland, and I have made up my mind to sell my rent-charge on the Dulchester estate. It will produce, Mr. Young says, a very large sum, and I wish to lend it to you, either all or as much as will make you quite comfortable—you must not refuse. I had intended leaving it to my dear little man up stairs; and you must promise me solemnly that you will not listen to the advice of that bad, cruel man, Mr. Larkin.'
'My dear Miss Lake, you misunderstood him. But what can I say—how can I thank you?' said the vicar, clasping her hand.
'A wicked and merciless man, I say,' repeated Miss Lake. 'From my observation of him, I am certain of two things—I am sure that he has some reason for thinking that your brother, Mark Wylder, is dead; and secondly, that he is himself deeply interested in the purchase of your reversion. I feel a little ill; Dolly, open the window.'
There was a silence for a little while, and Rachel resumed:—
'Now, William Wylder, I am convinced, that you and your wife (and she kissed Dolly), and your dear little boy, are marked out for plunder—the objects of a conspiracy; and I'll lose my life, but I'll prevent it.'
'Now, maybe, Willie, upon my word, perhaps, she's quite right; for, you know, if poor Mark is dead, then would not he have the estate now; is not that it, Miss Lake, and—and, you know, that would be dreadful, to sell it all for next to nothing, is not that what you mean, Miss Lake—Rachel dear, I mean.'