“Will be get round, sir?” he asked.
The doctor shook his head, and Master Swift felt a double pang. He was sorry about Abel, but the real object of his anxiety was Jan. Once he had hoped the danger was past, but the pestilence seemed still in full strength at the windmill, and the agonizing conviction strengthened in his mind that once more his hopes were to be disappointed, and the desire of his eyes was to be snatched away. The doctor thought that he was grieving for Abel, and said,—
“I’m just as sorry as yourself. He’s a fine lad, with something angelic about the face, when ye separate it from its surroundings. But they’ve no constitution in that family. It’s just the want of strength in him, and not the strength of the fever, this time; for the virulence of the poison’s abating. The cases are recovering now, except where other causes intervene.”
Master Swift felt almost ashamed of the bound in his spirits. But the very words which shut out all hope of Abel’s recovery opened a possible door of escape for Jan. He was not one of the family, and it was reasonable to hope that his constitution might be of sterner stuff. He turned with a lighter heart into his cottage, where he purposed to get some food and then return to the mill. There might be a lucid interval before the end, in which the pious Abel might find comfort from his lips; and if Jan sickened, he would nurse him night and day.
Rufus welcomed his master not merely with cordiality, but with fussiness. The partly apologetic character of his greeting was accounted for when a half starved looking dog emerged from beneath the table, and, not being immediately kicked, wagged the point of its tail feebly, keeping at a respectful distance, whilst Rufus introduced it.
“So ye’re for playing the philanthropist, are ye?” said Master Swift. “Ye’ve picked up one of these poor houseless, masterless creatures? I’m not for undervaluing disinterested charity, Rufus, my man; but I wish ye’d had the luck to light on a better bred beast while ye were about it.”
It is, perhaps, no disadvantage to what we call “dumb animals” if they understand the general drift of our remarks without minutely following every word. They have generally the sense, too, to leave well alone, and, without pressing the question of the new comer’s adoption, the two dogs curled themselves round, put their noses into their pockets, and went to sleep with an air of its being unnecessary to pursue the topic farther.
Master Swift shared his meal with them, and left them to keep house when he returned to the mill.
His quick eye, doubly quickened by experience and by anxiety, saw that Jan’s were full of fever, and his limbs languid. But he would not quit Abel’s side, and Master Swift remained with the afflicted family.
Abel muttered deliriously all night, with short intervals of complete stupor. The fever, like a fire, consumed his strength, and the fancy that he was toiling over the downs seemed to weary him as if he had really been on foot. Just before sunrise, Master Swift left him asleep, and went to breathe some out-door air.