‘I care for nobody—­Nobody cares for me.’

The evidence against Boucher, and other ringleaders of the riot, was taken before him; that against the three others, for conspiracy, failed.  But he sternly charged the police to be on the watch; for the swift right arm of the law should be in readiness to strike, as soon as they could prove a fault.  And then he left the hot reeking room in the borough court, and went out into the fresher, but still sultry street.  It seemed as though he gave way all at once; he was so languid that he could not control his thoughts; they would wander to her; they would bring back the scene,—­not of his repulse and rejection the day before but the looks, the actions of the day before that.  He went along the crowded streets mechanically, winding in and out among the people, but never seeing them,—­almost sick with longing for that one half-hour—­that one brief space of time when she clung to him, and her heart beat against his—­to come once again.

’Why, Mr. Thornton you’re cutting me very coolly, I must say.  And how is Mrs. Thornton?  Brave weather this!  We doctors don’t like it, I can tell you!’

’I beg your pardon, Dr. Donaldson.  I really didn’t see you.  My mother’s quite well, thank you.  It is a fine day, and good for the harvest, I hope.  If the wheat is well got in, we shall have a brisk trade next year, whatever you doctors have.’

’Ay, ay.  Each man for himself Your bad weather, and your bad times, are my good ones.  When trade is bad, there’s more undermining of health, and preparation for death, going on among you Milton men than you’re aware of.’

’Not with me, Doctor.  I’m made of iron.  The news of the worst bad debt I ever had, never made my pulse vary.  This strike, which affects me more than any one else in Milton,—­more than Hamper,—­never comes near my appetite.  You must go elsewhere for a patient, Doctor.’

’By the way, you’ve recommended me a good patient, poor lady!  Not to go on talking in this heartless way, I seriously believe that Mrs. Hale—­that lady in Crampton, you know—­hasn’t many weeks to live.  I never had any hope of cure, as I think I told you; but I’ve been seeing her to-day, and I think very badly of her.’

Mr. Thornton was silent.  The vaunted steadiness of pulse failed him for an instant.

‘Can I do anything, Doctor?’ he asked, in an altered voice.  ’You know—­you would see, that money is not very plentiful; are there any comforts or dainties she ought to have?’

‘No,’ replied the Doctor, shaking his head.  ’She craves for fruit,—­she has a constant fever on her; but jargonelle pears will do as well as anything, and there are quantities of them in the market.’

’You will tell me, if there is anything I can do, I’m sure, replied Mr. Thornton.  ‘I rely upon you.’

’Oh! never fear!  I’ll not spare your purse,—­I know it’s deep enough.  I wish you’d give me carte-blanche for all my patients, and all their wants.’