‘Your health, Uncle! May you live a thousand years, and may you be the same at the end of them!’
He half emptied his glass, and set it down with a cheery laugh.
Isaac drank slowly from his, peering meanwhile at his nephew over the rim.
‘Thank you, my lad,’ he said, replacing it on the table at last. ‘I’m obliged to you, Richard. ’T is kindly meant, but changes, d’ ye see’—here he paused and coughed—‘changes, Richard, is what must be looked for in this here world.’
His colour, always sufficiently ruddy, was now so much heightened, and his face assumed so curiously solemn an expression, that Richard paused with his pipe half-way to his lips and stared at him with amazement and gathering alarm.
‘What’s the matter?’ he said, anxiously. ‘Are n’t you feeling well? You’re looking first-rate.’
‘Never felt better in my life,’ rejoined his uncle in sepulchral tones.
‘Come, that’s all right! You quite frightened me. What do you mean by talking about changes?’
Isaac took a gulp from his tumbler and fixed his round eyes dismally on the young man.
‘There may be sich things as changes for the better,’ he remarked, still in his deepest bass.