‘Ah, you may well say that, Dr. Davoren,’ said Nurse Milderson, with her good-natured scolding tone. ‘I never see such an eggsitable patient—toss and turn, and worrit her poor dear self, as if she had all the cares of this mortial world upon her blessed shoulders. Why, Mrs. Beck, in Stevedor-square, that has seven children and a chandler’s business to look after, doesn’t worrit half as much when she keeps her bed, tho’ she knows as everythink is at sixes and sevens down-stairs; those blessed children tumbling down and hurting of themselves at every hand’s turn—and a bit of a girl serving in the shop that don’t know where to lay her hand upon a thing, and hasn’t headpiece to know the difference between best fresh and thirteen-penny Dorset.’ Altogether this tea-drinking had been a happy break in Lucius Davoren’s life, despite those tears of Lucille. He had been with her once more; it had seemed something like old times. He saw a great peril past, and was thankful. After tea he read to her a little—some mild tender lines of Wordsworth’s—and then they sat talking in the dusk. Many times during her illness Lucille had embarrassed her lover by her anxious inquiries about the Winchers. He had hitherto waived the question; now he told her briefly that they were gone—Mr. Sivewright had dismissed them. She protested against this as a great cruelty. ‘They were devoted to my grandfather; they were the best and most faithful servants that ever any one had,’ she said. ‘They might seem so, Lucille, and yet be capable of robbing their old master on the first good opportunity. Your grandfather’s long illness afforded them that opportunity, and I believe they took it.’ ‘How can you know that? Was anything stolen?’ she asked eagerly. ‘Yes; some valuable pieces of old silver, and other property, were taken.’ A look of intense pain came into the pale care-worn face. ‘How can you be sure those things were taken by the Winchers?’ she asked. ‘Simply because there is no one else who could possibly get at them. Jacob Wincher showed himself very clever throughout the business, acted a little comedy for my edification, and evidently thought to hoodwink me. But I was able to see through him. In point of fact, the evidence against him was conclusive. So at my advice your grandfather dismissed him, without an hour’s warning; and strange to say, his health has been slowly mending ever since his faithful servant’s departure.’ ‘What!’ cried Lucille, with a horrified look, ‘you think it possible that Wincher can have—’ ‘Tampered with the medicine by your grandfather’s bedside. Yes, Lucille, that is what I do believe; but he is now safe on the outside of this house, and you need not give yourself a moment’s uneasiness upon the subject. Think of it as something that has never been, and trust in my care for the security of the future. No evil-disposed person shall enter this house while I am here to guard it.’