The ensuing night the house was disturbed. Taverner Langford was ill, complaining of violent sickness, cramps, and burning in the throat. He must have a doctor sent for from Okehampton.
'Get a doctor's foot on your floor and he leaves his shoes,' said Mrs. Veale. 'No, wait till morning. If you're no better then we will send.'
'Go out of my room,' shouted Taverner to the farm men and maids who had crowded in. His calls and hammerings with the stick had roused everyone in the house. 'Do you think I am going to die because I'm took with spasms? Mrs. Veale is enough. Let her remain.'
'I reckon I caught a chill standing in the damp church with the smell of the vaults in my nose,' said Taverner, sitting in his chair and groaning. 'I felt the cold rise.'
'It is waiting,' remarked Mrs. Veale,
'What is waiting?' he asked irritably.
'The corpse-candle; I see it on the doorstep. And you that should be considering to have the bell tolled ordering a wedding peal! Those who slide on ice must expect falls, and elephants mustn't dance on tight-ropes. Rabbits that burrow in bogs won't have dry quarters. The fox said, "Instead of eating I shall be eaten," when, seeking a hen-roost, he walked into a kennel.'
CHAPTER XXXV.
A WARNING.
The day was wet; a warm south-westerly wind was breathing, not blowing, and its breath was steam, a steam that condensed into minute water-drops. The thatch was dripping. The window panes were blind with shiny films of moisture. There had been dry weather for the haysel, glorious weather, and now, just when wanted, the earth was bathed in a cloud. It would be inaccurate to say that it rained. It rained only under the eaves and beneath the trees; the earth was taking a vapour bath.