The Doctor fastened the door after his guest, and then returned to his study, and locked himself into it. He did not stand with his back to the fire, as is an Englishman’s wont, but he stood with his back to the table and his face to the fire for half an hour, thinking all the time of his brother, and going over again the trouble which had been confided to him. Presently one little sentence he had uttered came back to his mind, and he repeated it aloud, “Am I a Christian? Am I a Christian? Am I a Christian?” He clasped his hands together on the mantelpiece, and leaned his head upon them, and so stood, as if oblivious of time. At last he turned with a sigh, and forced his eyes to the table which he had avoided, and, as though it had been some venomous beast, he looked at the only thing that lay upon it. It was a cheque for a thousand pounds!
CHAPTER XV.
A NEW EMIGRATION.
“Oh, Mr. Arthur Knight, I do b’lieve you listened, because you were so close to the door when it came open!”
“Yes, Miss Sissie Hancourt, I did. The singing was so beautiful; who could have helped it?”
Arthur Knight had tapped at the door of a room in which an old blind servant, whom he had pensioned, was living; but the tap had made so little noise that it was not heard, and he waited a few moments to listen. A sweet, tender voice, which he recognised with a throb of pleasure, was preaching that wonderful sermon in song from the text, “Oh, rest in the Lord, wait patiently for Him,” which few can hear without being hushed into quietness. He wanted to make the acquaintance of the singer, and to know who she was and all about her, so he stood outside the door until the sweet solo was ended; but from some cause the door opened almost before the last word had died away, and his entrance was precipitate. He apologised for it, and was sorry to disturb the little party of three, who looked the picture of contentment. The old servant was listening with a smile upon her white face, and the singer, who was evidently getting as much pleasure as she gave, held on her knees the little talkative child, who looked for once entirely happy to be silent.
The young lady rose to leave, after courteously responding to Arthur’s greeting, and could not be persuaded to remain, although Sissie pleaded earnestly enough. “It’s only Mr. Knight; he doesn’t matter, you know. Do sing again. He will be sure to go directly.”
“Yes, indeed,” said Arthur; “please do not let me interfere in the least. How came you here, Sissie?”
“I am only here till mother calls for me. Geoff was coming, too, but he could not make haste to get ready. He was sweeping his teeth such a long while.”
“What was he doing, Sissie?”
“Sweeping his teeth, don’t you know, with a brush. Everybody does it. Mother says we must take care of our teeth, so Geoff is nearly always sweeping his to make them quite clean. What are you all laughing at?”