Mr Larks had opened the door and entered without knocking. He and Queeker stood in the passage and saw the bed, the invalid, and the watcher through an inner door which stood ajar. They could hear the murmurings of the old woman’s voice. She appeared to wander in her mind, for sometimes her words were coherent, at other times she merely babbled.
“O Morley, Morley, give it up,” she said, during one of her lucid intervals; “it has been the curse of our family. Your grandfather died of it; your father—ah! he was a man, tall and straight, and so kind, till he took to it; oh me! how it changed him! But the Lord saved his soul, though he let the body fall to the dust. Blessed be His holy name for that. Give it up, Morley, my darling boy; give it up, give it up—oh, for God’s sake give it up!”
She raised her voice at each entreaty until it almost reached a shriek, and then her whole frame seemed to sink down into the bed from exhaustion.
“Why don’t ’ee speak to me, Morley?” she resumed after a short time, endeavouring to turn her head round.
“Dearest granny,” said Nora, gently stroking one of her withered hands, which lay on the counterpane, “father is away just now. No doubt he will be back ere long.”
“Ay, ay, he’s always away; always away,” she murmured in a querulous tone; “always coming back too, but he never comes. Oh, if he would give it up—give it up—”
She repeated this several times, and gradually dwindled off into unintelligible mutterings.
By this time Mr Larks had become aware of whispering voices in a part of the room which he could not see. Pushing the door a little farther open he entered softly, and in a darkened corner of the apartment beheld Mr Durant and Katie in close conversation with James Welton. They all rose, and Nora, seeing that the old woman had fallen into a slumber, also rose and advanced towards the strangers. Mr Durant at once explained to her who Queeker was, and Queeker introduced Mr Larks as a friend who had come to see them on important business.
“I think we know pretty well what the business is about,” said Jim Welton, advancing and addressing himself to Mr Larks, “but you see,” he added, glancing towards the bed, “that this is neither the time nor place to prosecute your inquiries, sir.”
Mr Larks, who was by no means an unfeeling man, though very stern, said that he had no intention of intruding; he had not been aware that any one was ill in the house, and he would take it as a favour if Mr Welton would go outside and allow him the pleasure of a few words with him. Of course Jim agreed, but before going took Nora aside.