The most regular inquirer was Wrentham, who not only presented himself daily at the Manor, but also contrived to see Dr Joy and obtain from him precise accounts of the progress of the case.
The progress was all that could be expected under the circumstances. Philip had a strong constitution; he was soothed into a degree of calmness, as soon as he learned that Madge had carried out his wishes; he ‘kept his head’ all the time; but his strength rendered his unavoidable restraint the more tantalising, and the sailing of the Hertford Castle without him the more vexatious.
Then Madge said, with a make-believe look of reproach:
‘Are you so very sorry, then, that we are together for a month or two longer than you expected?’
‘You know I am not; but then they have to be tacked on to the other end; and by so much delay my return.’
She was obliged to own that it was irksome for a man of active spirit to be bound down to his bed for weeks, when he had so much to do, and his spirit felt strong enough to do it. Besides, as he put it:
‘We had screwed our courage to the sailing-point, and now, when we have to wind ourselves up again, how do you know but I may fail? Maybe I shall give it up altogether, and take that little trip to the church we spoke about, and my father wants us to make.’
Then she spoke very decisively:
‘No, Philip, you will not fail; and in any case, we shall not take that trip until next harvest is over.’
‘Next harvest!’ ejaculated the invalid, pretending to groan. ‘How old shall we be then?—or rather, how old shall I be? for I don’t believe you will ever grow old.’