“If thou hast heard a word,
let it die with thee.”
—Ecclesiasticus.
Mr. Bulstrode was still seated in his manager’s
room at the Bank, about three o’clock of the
same day on which he had received Lydgate there, when
the clerk entered to say that his horse was waiting,
and also that Mr. Garth was outside and begged to speak
with him.
“By all means,” said Bulstrode; and Caleb
entered. “Pray sit down, Mr. Garth,”
continued the banker, in his suavest tone.
“I am glad that you arrived just in time to
find me here. I know you count your minutes.”
“Oh,” said Caleb, gently, with a slow
swing of his head on one side, as he seated himself
and laid his hat on the floor.
He looked at the ground, leaning forward and letting
his long fingers droop between his legs, while each
finger moved in succession, as if it were sharing
some thought which filled his large quiet brow.
Mr. Bulstrode, like every one else who knew Caleb,
was used to his slowness in beginning to speak on
any topic which he felt to be important, and rather
expected that he was about to recur to the buying
of some houses in Blindman’s Court, for the sake
of pulling them down, as a sacrifice of property which
would be well repaid by the influx of air and light
on that spot. It was by propositions of this
kind that Caleb was sometimes troublesome to his employers;
but he had usually found Bulstrode ready to meet him
in projects of improvement, and they had got on well
together. When he spoke again, however, it was
to say, in rather a subdued voice—
“I have just come away from Stone Court, Mr.
Bulstrode.”
“You found nothing wrong there, I hope,”
said the banker; “I was there myself yesterday.
Abel has done well with the lambs this year.”
“Why, yes,” said Caleb, looking up gravely,
“there is something wrong— a stranger,
who is very ill, I think. He wants a doctor,
and I came to tell you of that. His name is
Raffles.”
He saw the shock of his words passing through Bulstrode’s
frame. On this subject the banker had thought
that his fears were too constantly on the watch to
be taken by surprise; but he had been mistaken.
“Poor wretch!” he said in a compassionate
tone, though his lips trembled a little. “Do
you know how he came there?”
“I took him myself,” said Caleb, quietly—“took
him up in my gig. He had got down from the coach,
and was walking a little beyond the turning from the
toll-house, and I overtook him. He remembered
seeing me with you once before, at Stone Court, and
he asked me to take him on. I saw he was ill:
it seemed to me the right thing to do, to carry him
under shelter. And now I think you should lose
no time in getting advice for him.” Caleb
took up his hat from the floor as he ended, and rose
slowly from his seat.
“Certainly,” said Bulstrode, whose mind
was very active at this moment. “Perhaps
you will yourself oblige me, Mr. Garth, by calling
at Mr. Lydgate’s as you pass—or stay!
he may at this hour probably be at the Hospital.
I will first send my man on the horse there with
a note this instant, and then I will myself ride to
Stone Court.”
