After some altercation the brandy bottle was brought, and Louis, with what he thought a very sparing hand, proceeded to pour about half a wine—­glass into the cup.  As he did so, Sir Roger, weak as he was, contrived to shake his son’s arm, so as greatly to increase the dose.

‘Ha! ha! ha!’ laughed the sick man, and then greedily swallowed the dose.

CHAPTER XXV

SIR ROGER DIES

That night the doctor stayed at Boxall Hill, and the next night; so that it became a customary thing for him to sleep there during the latter part of Sir Roger’s illness.  He returned home to Greshamsbury; for he had his patients there, to whom he was as necessary as to Sir Roger, the foremost of whom was Lady Arabella.  He had, therefore, no slight work on his hands, seeing that his nights were by no means wholly devoted to rest.

Mr Rerechild had not been much wrong as to the remaining space of life which he had allotted to the dying man.  Once or twice Dr Thorne had thought that the great original strength of his patient would have enabled him to fight against death for a somewhat longer period; but Sir Roger would give himself no chance.  Whenever he was strong enough to have a will of his own, he insisted on having his very medicine mixed with brandy; and in the hours of the doctor’s absence, he was too often successful in his attempts.

‘It does not much matter,’ Dr Thorne had said to Lady Scatcherd.  ’Do what you can to keep down the quantity, but do not irritate him by refusing to obey.  It does not much signify now.’  So Lady Scatcherd still administered the alcohol, and he from day to day invented little schemes for increasing the amount, over which he chuckled with ghastly laughter.

Two or three times these days Sir Roger essayed to speak seriously to his son; but Louis always frustrated him.  He either got out of the room on some excuse, or made his mother interfere on the score that so much talking would be bad for his father.  He already knew with tolerable accuracy what was the purport of his father’s will, and by no means approved of it; but as he could not now hope to induce his father to alter it so as to make it more favourable to himself, he conceived that no conversation on matters of business could be of use to him.

‘Louis,’ said Sir Roger, one afternoon to his son; ’Louis, I have not done by you as I ought to have done—­I know that now.’

’Nonsense, governor; never mind about it now; I shall do well enough I dare say.  Besides, it isn’t too late; you can make it twenty-three years instead of twenty-five.’

’I do not mean as to money, Louis.  There are things besides money which a father ought to look to.’

’Now, father, don’t fret yourself—­I’m all right; you may be sure of that.’

’Louis, it’s that accursed brandy—­it’s that that I’m afraid of:  you see me here, my boy, I’m lying here now.’