he thought must lurk behind.  But, as he was following the doctor, he—­they all—­were aware of the effort Mr. Bradshaw was making to rise, in order to arrest Mr. Benson’s departure.  He did stand up, supporting himself with one hand on the table, for his legs shook under him.  Mr. Benson came back instantly to the spot where he was.  For a moment it seemed as if he had not the right command of his voice:  but at last he said, with a tone of humble, wistful entreaty, which was very touching—­

“He is alive, sir; is he not?”

“Yes, sir—­indeed he is; he is only hurt.  He is sure to do well.  Mr. Farquhar is with him,” said Mr. Benson, almost unable to speak for tears.

Mr. Bradshaw did not remove his eyes from Mr. Benson’s face for more than a minute after his question had been answered.  He seemed as though he would read his very soul, and there see if he spoke the truth.  Satisfied at last, he sank slowly into his chair; and they were silent for a little space, waiting to perceive if he would wish for any further information just then.  At length he put his hands slowly together in the clasped attitude of prayer, and said—­“Thank God!”

CHAPTER XXXII

THE BRADSHAW PEW AGAIN OCCUPIED

If Jemima allowed herself now and then to imagine that one good would result from the discovery of Richard’s delinquency, in the return of her father and Mr. Benson to something of their old understanding and their old intercourse—­if this hope fluttered through her mind, it was doomed to disappointment.  Mr. Benson would have been most happy to go, if Mr. Bradshaw had sent for him; he was on the watch for what might be even the shadow of such an invitation—­but none came.  Mr. Bradshaw, on his part, would have been thoroughly glad if the wilful seclusion of his present life could have been broken by the occasional visits of the old friend whom he had once forbidden the house; but, this prohibition having passed his lips, he stubbornly refused to do anything which might be construed into unsaying it.  Jemima was for some time in despair of his ever returning to the office, or resuming his old habits of business.  He had evidently threatened as much to her husband.  All that Jemima could do was to turn a deaf ear to every allusion to this menace, which he threw out from time to time, evidently with a view to see if it had struck deep enough into her husband’s mind for him to have repeated it to his wife.  If Mr. Farquhar had named it—­if it was known only to two or three to have been, but for one half-hour even, his resolution—­Mr. Bradshaw could have adhered to it, without any other reason than the maintenance of what he called consistency, but which was in fact doggedness.  Jemima was often thankful that her mother was absent, and gone to nurse her son.  If she had been at home, she would have entreated and implored her husband to fall back into his usual habits, and would have shown such a dread