"It is just my death-knell, Allen."
"If you look at it in that light I shall be very sorry to have given you my opinion," observed the surgeon. "I repeat that, by taking care of yourself, you may stave off disease and live many years. I would not say this unless I thought it."
"And would your opinion be the same as the doctor's—that I must leave London for the country?"
"I think you would have a far better chance of getting well in the country than you have here. You have told me over and over again, you know, that you were sure London air was bad for you."
"Ay, I have," replied Mr. Halliburton. "I never have felt quite well in it, and that's the truth. Well, I must see what can be done. Good evening."
If the edict did not appear to be so irrevocably dark as that of Dr. Carrington, it was yet dark enough; and Mr. Halliburton, striving to look it full in the face, as he was in the habit of doing by troubles less grave, endeavoured to set himself to think "what could be done." There was no possible chance of keeping it from his wife. If it was really necessary that their place of residence should be changed, she must be taken into counsel; and the sooner she was told the better. He went home, resolved to tell her before he slept.
The little troop departed, the children in bed, they sat together over the fire; though the weather had become warm, an evening fire was pleasant still. He sat nervous and fidgety. Now the moment had arrived, he shrunk from his task.
"Edgar, I am sure you are not well!" she exclaimed. "I have observed it all the evening."
"Yes, Jane, I am well. Pretty well, that is. The truth is, my darling, I have some bad news for you, and I don't like to tell it."
Her own family were safe and well under her roof, and her fears flew to Francis, to Margaret, to Robert. Mr. Halliburton stopped her.