CHAPTER III.
CECIL’S ROMANCE.
We must turn to Ashlydyat, and go back to a little earlier in the evening. Miss Godolphin’s note to the Folly had stated that her brother had been taken ill while dressing for Mr. Verrall’s dinner-party. It was correct. Thomas Godolphin was alone in his room, ready, when he was attacked by a sharp internal paroxysm of agony. He hastily sat down: a cry escaped his lips, and drops of water gathered on his brow.
Alone he bore it, calling for no aid. In a few minutes the pain had partially passed, and he rang for his servant. An old man now, that servant: he had for years attended on Sir George Godolphin.
“Bexley, I have been ill again,” said Thomas, quietly. “Will you ask Miss Godolphin to write a line to Mr. Verrall, saying that I am unable to attend.”
Bexley cast a strangely yearning look on the pale, suffering face of his master. He had seen him in these paroxysms once or twice. “I wish you would have Mr. Snow called in, sir!” he cried.
“I think I shall. He may give me some ease, possibly. Take my message to your mistress, Bexley.”
The effect of the message was to bring Janet to the room. “Taken ill! a sharp inward pain!” she was repeating, after Bexley. “Thomas, what sort of a pain is it? It seems to me that you have had the same before lately.”
“Write a few words the first thing, will you, Janet? I should not like to keep them waiting for me.”
Janet, punctilious as Thomas, considerate as he was for others, sat down and wrote the note, despatching it at once by Andrew, one of the serving men. Few might have set about and done it so calmly as Janet, considering that she had a great fear thumping at her heart. A fear which had never penetrated it until this moment. With something very like sickness, had flashed into her memory their mother’s pain. A sharp, agonizing pain had occasionally attacked her, the symptom of the inward malady of which she had died. Was the same fatal malady attacking Thomas? The doctors had expressed their fears then that it might prove hereditary.
In the corridor, as Janet was going back to Thomas’s room, the note despatched, she encountered Bexley. The sad, apprehensive look in the old man’s face struck her. She touched his arm, and beckoned him into an empty room.