CHAPTER XXVII.
On the next day events happened, the influence of which upon Carmina’s excitable nature urged her to complete her unfinished letter, without taking the rest that she needed. Once more—and, as the result proved, for the last time—she wrote to her faithful old friend in these words:
“Don’t ask me to tell you how the night passed! Miss Minerva was the first person who came to me in the morning.
“She had barely said a few kind words, when Maria interrupted us, reminding her governess of the morning’s lessons. ‘Mrs. Gallilee has sent her,’ Miss Minerva whispered; ‘I will return to you in the hour before the children’s dinner.’
“The next person who appeared was, as we had both anticipated, Mrs. Gallilee herself.
“She brought me a cup of tea; and the first words she spoke were words of apology for her conduct on the previous night. Her excuse was that she had been ‘harassed by anxieties which completely upset her.’ And—can you believe it?—she implored me not to mention ‘the little misunderstanding between us when I next wrote to her son!’ Is this woman made of iron and stone, instead of flesh and blood? Does she really think me such a wretch as to cause Ovid, under any provocation, a moment’s anxiety while he is away? The fewest words that would satisfy her, and so send her out of my room, were the only words I said.
“After this, an agreeable surprise was in store for me. The familiar voice of good Mr. Gallilee applied for admission—through the keyhole!
“‘Are you asleep, my dear? May I come in?’ His kind, fat old face peeped round the door when I said Yes—and reminded me of Zo, at dinner, when she asks for more pudding, and doesn’t think she will get it. Mr. Gallilee had something to ask for, and some doubt of getting it, which accounted for the resemblance. ‘I’ve taken the liberty, Carmina, of sending for our doctor. You’re a delicate plant, my dear—’ (Here, his face disappeared and he spoke to somebody outside)—‘You think so yourself, don’t you, Mr. Null? And you have a family of daughters, haven’t you?’ (His face appeared again; more like Zo than ever.) ‘Do please see him, my child; I’m not easy about you. I was on the stairs last night—nobody ever notices me, do they, Mr. Null?—and I saw Miss Minerva—good creature, and, Lord, how strong!—carrying you to your bed. Mr. Null’s waiting outside. Don’t distress me by saying No!’
“Is there anybody cruel enough to distress Mr. Gallilee? The doctor came in—looking like a clergyman; dressed all in black, with a beautiful frill to his shirt, and a spotless white cravat. He stared hard at me; he produced a little glass-tube; he gave it a shake, and put it under my arm; he took it away again, and consulted it; he said, ‘Aha!’ he approved of my tongue; he disliked my pulse; he gave his opinion at last. ‘Perfect quiet. I must see Mrs. Gallilee.’ And there was an end of it.
“Mr. Gallilee observed the medical proceedings with awe. ‘Mr. Null is a wonderful man,’ he whispered, before he followed the doctor out. Ill and wretched as I was, this little interruption amused me. I wonder why I write about it here? There are serious things waiting to be told—am I weakly putting them off?