During most of this time, I had no idea where the queen of hypocrites
was; though doubtless she knew all that was happening to us. As soon as
he heard of my uncle’s surprising rally, Dr. Churchyard came over, and
claimed all the merit for his own last prescription. Brought face to
face with the awkward fact that the medicine had not been procured, he
was not in the least disconcerted, but found that we had misunderstood
him, the prescription to which he referred was the one before the last.
At any rate, he enhanced his own fame immensely, and became
"instrumental under Providence" in killing more people than ever. In
reply to Mrs. Fletcher, for I would not deign to ask him, he stated that
the excellent and devoted Mrs. Daldy had not been seen lately in
Cheltenham. Her son, however, was there, and foremost in the ranks of
Pump-room Lady-killers. Just what he was fit for.
The doctor entertained a belief, and spread the report in Cheltenham,
that Dorcas was lodged in a humble cot among the haunts of pestilence,
imperilling her life and lavishing her substance to relieve the
fever-stricken. This being more than I could stand, I asked the worthy
doctor--who, after all, was a man of the world--what three wealthy
persons Dorcas had carried with her. At first he feigned not to
understand me, then looked sly, and changed the subject cleverly. Of
course I referred to the well-known fact, that she supported her
grandeur and her son’s extravagance by playing an admirable rubber. She
was playing a better one now.
Dr. Churchyard finished by writing another prescription, which, after
his departure, I handed to the husband of Venus, legitimate disposer of
mineral medicines.
CHAPTER II.
London! London! was still the cry of my heart; and was I not summoned
thither by duty long ago? What might become, during all this time, of
the man whom I was bound to watch at every turn, and whom I was now in a
better condition to deal with? My first visit, every morning, was to my
parents’ graves, and neither of them would be there but for his ruthless
hand. As I sat there how lonely I felt! how sadly forlorn in the world,
be my lot wealth or poverty, victory or defeat!
One morning as I sat there my spirit was moved by dreams of the night
before, and I vowed, in that bodily but invisible presence, that none,
except one whose name I whispered, should ever kneel on that turf hand
in hand with me.
Borne out of my usual vein by the deed myself had done, I entered the
ancient church, always left open for me, and, kneeling at the
altar-rails, with many a Vaughan supine in prayer, pennons, helms, and
trophies round me, stately dames in marble white, and old crusaders
clutching still the cross--there I made my vow upon the knee-cupped
stones, that if he claimed me not, the race should end with me.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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