“Dying!” she exclaimed sneeringly; “not he—it’s all pretence. If anything common could have killed him, such as kills other people, he would have been dead ages ago. But he isn’t like other men; he has got a charmed life. He’ll be all right again after a while.”
“And you will not go to him?” asked Amos, calmly and sadly.
“No, certainly not,” she cried indignantly. “I’ve suffered more than enough already for him and from him. Besides, if you talk of duty, it is surely my duty to think of the dear children, and not run the risk of bringing back the fever to them, supposing I should not be killed by it myself.”
“Then,” said her brother deliberately, “I shall go.”
“You, Amos!” exclaimed both his aunt and sister.
“Yes,” he said; “my own duty is now plain to me. The poor man has let me know his case; he is my sister’s husband, however unworthy a husband; he is dying, and may be eternally lost body and soul, and by going I may be made the means of helping on the good Scripture reader’s work. The poor dying man’s heart is softened just now, and it may be that when he hears the words of God’s truth, and experiences kindness from one who has been treated by him as I have been, he may be led to seek and find pardon before he is taken away.”
“But,” said his aunt anxiously, “you will be running a great risk of catching the fever, and may lose your own health, and even your life.”
“I know it,” he said; “I have counted the cost; and should I be taken away, I shall merely have done my duty, and”—his voice trembled as he proceeded—“I shall be the one best spared and least missed in the household.” As he uttered these last words, his sister, who had been gradually crouching down shiveringly on to the floor, clasped her hands over her face and wept bitterly, but she uttered no word. Then Amos turned to his aunt and said, “Will you, dear aunt, kindly explain to my father how matters are, and why I am gone?—Poor Julia!” he added, raising her up gently and kissing her forehead, “all may yet be well. May I take him one kind word from you?” She did not speak, but her bosom heaved convulsively. At last she said in a hoarse, quivering whisper, “Yes, what you like; and—write and tell me if he is really dying.” Then she rushed out of the room to her own chamber, but appeared at luncheon with all traces of emotion vanished from her features.
The squire was absent attending a business meeting in the neighbouring town, and nothing had yet been said to Walter on the subject of his brother’s departure. That afternoon Amos set off for Collingford, and Walter and his sister on their shooting and sketching expedition, which proved a miserable failure, so far as any pleasure to Julia was concerned.
Collingford was nearly a day’s journey from Flixworth Manor, so it was not till dark that Amos arrived at the town. He sought out at once the Scripture reader, and obtained full information as to the state of the poor sufferer. Could he obtain lodgings in the house where the sick man was? Mr Harris shook his head.