‘And you’ll go?’

‘I think not; but that need not deter you.  But, Sir Louis—­’

‘Well! eh! what is it?’

‘Step downstairs a moment,’ said the doctor, turning to the servant, ‘and wait till you are called for.  I wish to speak to your master.’  Joe, for a moment, looked up at the baronet’s face, as though he wanted but the slightest encouragement to disobey the doctor’s orders; but not seeing it, he slowly retired, and placed himself, of course, at the keyhole.

And then, the doctor began a long and very useless lecture.  The first object of it was to induce his ward not to get drunk at Greshamsbury; but having got so far, he went on, and did succeed in frightening his unhappy guest.  Sir Louis did not possess the iron nerves of his father—­nerves which even brandy had not been able to subdue.  The doctor spoke, strongly, very strongly; spoke of quick, almost immediate death in case of further excesses; spoke to him of the certainty there would be that he could not live to dispose of his own property if he could not refrain.  And thus he did frighten Sir Louis.  The father he had never been able to frighten.  But there are men who, though they fear death hugely, fear present suffering more; who, indeed, will not bear a moment of pain if there by any mode of escape.  Sir Louis was such:  he had no strength of nerve, no courage, no ability to make a resolution and keep it.  He promised the doctor that he would refrain; and, as he did so, he swallowed down his cup of coffee and brandy, in which the two articles bore about equal proportions.

The doctor did, at last, make up his mind to go.  Whichever way he determined, he found that he was not contented with himself.  He did not like to trust Sir Louis by himself, and he did not like to show that he was angry.  Still less did he like the idea of breaking bread in Lady Arabella’s house till some amends had been made to Mary.  But his heart would not allow him to refuse the petition contained in the squire’s postscript, and the matter ended in his accepting the invitation.

This visit of his ward’s was, in every way, pernicious to the doctor.  He could not go about his business, fearing to leave such a man alone with Mary.  On the afternoon of the second day, she escaped to the parsonage for an hour or so, and then, walked away among the lanes, calling on some of her old friends among the farmers’ wives.  But even then, the doctor was afraid to leave Sir Louis.  What could such a man do, left alone in a village like Greshamsbury?  So he stayed at home, and the two together went over their accounts.  The baronet was particular about his accounts, and said a good deal as to having Finnie over to Greshamsbury.  To this, however, Dr Thorne positively refused his consent.

The evening passed off better than the preceding one; at least the early part of it.  Sir Louis did not get tipsy; he came up to tea, and Mary, who did not feel so keenly on the subject as her uncle, almost wished that he had done so.  At ten o’clock he went to bed.