“You complain so bitterly,” said he, looking reproachfully at me, “of the general decay and ruin into which everything about here, animate and inanimate, is falling, that it is surprising you have not yet intimated your doubts about your father getting his proper supply of provisions.”
“Oh no, uncle!” said Mary, tenderly, “you could not forget so sacred a duty as that. Surely no one ever hinted such a thing. The thought of it would drive me mad.”
“I wish you to satisfy yourselves perfectly upon that point,” he continued, in the tone of a man who thought himself aggrieved. “A trusty servant is to convey to him a basket of things the day after to-morrow. Let Lazarus accompany him. Let his daughters send some little presents. His son can see him and even speak with him at a distance. He can see his lodging and satisfy himself that he is comfortably situated.”
“Without confessing, uncle,” said I, “that this visit is necessary for my faith in your attention to my father, I concede that it will give me very great pleasure.”
“How long will he be gone?” said Martha.
“Is there no danger?” said Mary.
“He will run no risk and will return the same [pg 37]night,” said Magistus, answering both questions in a breath.
This visit occupied our thoughts continually, and we delighted to imagine what joy it would give our poor father. I was out of bed before daylight that morning, impatient to start. I partook heartily of an extempore breakfast which Ethopus provided me. That personage to my surprise seemed sad and abstracted. I could say nothing to him, however, for Magistus was present. I kissed my sisters good-bye at the door of their room, for they too could not sleep for excitement. Magistus waved his adieu at the front door. I walked through the courtyard with Ethopus, who carried a covered basket on his arm.
We were near the gate, when Ethopus coming close to me slipped something into my hand. It was a long, thin, bright dagger. I concealed it immediately in my bosom.
“Ethopus thinks there will be danger,” said I, to myself.