How his face would have darkened with wrath and hate, if he had known
that his detestation, Hunting, had inspired them!
The tea-bell reminded him how time was passing, and he went to his room
with an elastic step that one would suppose impossible after seeing him
in the morning. But, as is usual with nervous organizations, he sank or
rallied rapidly in accordance with circumstances. When he appeared at
the table, Mr. Walton could hardly believe his eyes.
"It is again the result of Miss Walton's witchcraft," explained
Gregory. "The moment I felt her hand upon my brow, there came a sense
of relief. In Italy they would make a saint of her, and bring out the
sick for her to touch."
"And so soon lose their saint by some contagious disease," said Annie,
laughing.
"I fear, sir, I was very rude to you this morning, but in truth I was
beside myself with pain."
"Annie has a wonderful power of magnetism; I don't know what else to
call it," said Miss Eulie. "She can drive away one of my headaches
quicker than all other remedies combined."
"You are making out," said Annie, "that my proper calling is that of a
nurse. If you don't change the subject, I'll leave you all to take care
of yourselves, and go down to Bellevue."
"If you do," laughed Gregory, "I'll break every bone in my body, and be
carried into your ward as a homeless stranger."
The supper-hour passed away in light and cheerful conversation. As if
by common consent, the scenes on the mountain were not mentioned in the
presence of the children, and they evidently had had their curiosity
satisfied on the subject.
Annie seemed tired and languid after supper and Miss Eulie volunteered
to see the children safely to their rest. Mr. Walton insisted that
Annie should take his easy-chair, and Gregory placed a footstool at her
feet, and together they "made a baby of her," she said. The old
gentleman then took his seat, and seemed to find unbounded content in
gazing on his beloved daughter. Their guest appeared restless and began
to pace the room. Suddenly he asked Mr. Walton, "Have you heard
anything of the fugitives?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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