“The young lady, Mrs. Gallilee! I am sure you will never breathe a word of this to the pretty gentle, young lady? Even if it was true; and, as God is my witness, I am sure it’s false—”
“Good-evening, Mr. Mool!”
He opened the door, and let her go; her looks and tones told him that remonstrance was worse than useless. From year’s end to year’s end, this modest and amiable man had never been heard to swear. He swore now. “Damn Doctor Benjulia!” he burst out, in the solitude of his office. His dinner was waiting for him at home. Instead of putting on his hat, he went back to his writing-table. His thoughts projected themselves into the future—and discovered possibilities from which they recoiled. He took up his pen, and began a letter. “To John Gallilee, Esquire: Dear Sir,—Circumstances have occurred, which I am not at liberty to mention, but which make it necessary for me, in justice to my own views and feelings, to withdraw from the position of legal adviser to yourself and family.” He paused and considered with himself. “No,” he decided; “I may be of some use to that poor child, while I am the family lawyer.” He tore up his unfinished letter.
When Mr. Mool got home that night, it was noticed that he had a poor appetite for his dinner. On the other hand, he drank more wine than usual.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
“I don’t know what is the matter with me. Sometimes I think I am going to be really ill.”
It was the day after Mrs. Gallilee’s interview with her lawyer—and this was Carmina’s answer, when the governess entered her room, after the lessons of the morning, and asked if she felt better.
“Are you still taking medicine?” Miss Minerva inquired.
“Yes. Mr. Null says it’s a tonic, and it’s sure to do me good. It doesn’t seem to have begun yet. I feel so dreadfully weak, Frances. The least thing makes me cry; and I put off doing what I ought to do, and want to do, without knowing why. You remember what I told you about Teresa? She may be with us in a few days more, for all I know to the contrary. I must find a nice lodging for her, poor dear—and here I am, thinking about it instead of doing it.”