"It took me here," said Mr. Henry, touching his left side. "It's gone now."
"Why, that's near the heart; it couldn't have been there, I should think," said Sir Simon, peering at him curiously. "Well, we are close at home; come in to Pond Place and rest.
"Thank you, Sir Simon; I am all right now. I must go on quickly to my pupils."
"I'll tell you what it is, sir; you are overworking yourself. That's my opinion."
"Oh, no. Folks can't do too much at my age."
"That depends upon the amount of strength: I could have plodded on night and day; you seem to get more of a lath than ever. What's the reason you never will accept my hospitality? Got any dislike to me?—taken up a prejudice? I know I'm a plain man, without education; but you might put up with that."
"If I could only show you how I respect you, Sir Simon; if I could but live to be of service to you!" was the impulsive answer. "But, indeed, I can never get time for visiting: the little Galls are waiting for me now."
And away he went through the plantation, leaving Sir Simon considerably puzzled, as he had been before, at the earnestness of the words and manner; for they seemed to imply more than was on the surface. That afternoon, in the very midst of explaining to Master Fred Gall an abstruse difficulty in the Latin grammar, Mr. Henry leaned back in his chair and quietly fainted away. With a hullabaloo that might have been heard at the distant college, the children threw open the door and scattered away, pell-mell.
The noise brought forth Mrs. Gall and her eldest son; who had stepped in at home, as he had the liberty to do on holidays. They took off his neckcloth and brought him wine, and were very tender with him.
"Do forgive me," he murmured, in deep contrition for the trouble he was causing. "The heat must have overpowered me; I have been walking fast."