"You've had a slight heat stroke, I think, but you needn't be alarmed."
"I'm not in the least alarmed," he said, with a pathetic smile; "but I hate giving Mrs. Tuke so much trouble."
"You've been overworking yourself rather. I've seen it for months past. When you are a little recovered, I'll give you a complete overhauling," and he smiled cheerfully.
"Then you think I shall recover?"
"Of course you will recover. But, meanwhile, keep quite still, and don't worry."
Rufus hoped for a day or two that his illness would take a fatal turn. He wanted so much to die quietly at home in bed; it would be such a perfect solution of the whole difficulty. But it was not to be.
In a few days he was up and about again. "You want toning up," the doctor said to him. "There is really nothing the matter with you except that you are run down. Take more exercise, get a sea bath two or three times a week, and be careful what you eat."
Rufus told Mrs. Tuke and Captain Tom Hendy what the doctor had prescribed, and proceeded at once to carry out his orders. But no one knew the thought that was in his mind. Some day he would not return from his short swim in the sea, and then he would be at rest. It would be very easy, and almost as natural as dying at home in bed.
The weather was brilliantly fine. The yellow corn was falling before the sickle in all directions, the sea danced and shimmered in the sunshine, the flowers drooped in the windless heat. To all appearances Rufus was recovering his health and spirits. He told Mrs. Tuke that he enjoyed his morning bath. His appetite seemed better than it had been for weeks past, and once or twice she heard him humming a hymn tune after he had gone upstairs to bed.