The Quiet Gentleman

He came round to find that he was once again being commanded to drink. He obeyed, and was lowered on to his pillows, and heard a cheerful voice say: "There! You have nothing to do now but to go to sleep, my lord. I shall come to see you in the morning, and I expect to find you much more comfortable."

"Thank you," murmured the Earl, wishing that he might be left in peace.

The wish was granted. Silence fell, broken only by the rattle of curtain-rings, drawn along the rods, and the crackle of the fire burning in the hearth.

When the Earl opened his eyes again, it was to shaded lamplight. He saw Miss Morville rise from a chair beside the fire, and cross the room towards him, and said faintly: "Good heavens, what o'clock is it?"

"I have no very exact notion, my lord, but it doesn't signify," she answered, laying her hand across his brow. She glanced towards the door leading into the dressing-room, which stood open, and said: "Yes, his lordship is awake, Turvey. If you will come in, I will go and prepare the broth for him."

"The housekeeper desired me to tell you, madam, that she should not go to bed, and would hold herself in readiness to prepare whatever might be needed."

"Thank you, I will go to her," Miss Morville said. When she returned to the bedchamber, bearing a small tray, Turvey had raised his master a little against his pillows combed out his tumbled gold curls, and straightened the bedcoverings. Beyond thanking him for the various services he performed, the Earl said nothing, nor did Turvey encourage him to speak. He was deft in his ministrations, but quite impersonal, his impassive countenance not betraying his opinion of a household in which such shocking accidents could occur. Upon Miss Morville's entrance, he moved away from the bedside, and began to pick up some scraps of lint which had been allowed to fall on the floor. He then bowed, and said that he should be in the dressing-room when Miss Morville had need of him, and withdrew, closing the door behind him.

The Earl watched Miss Morville set down her tray on a table drawn up beside his bed, and said: "I remember now. Who—Did Chard see—?"

"No," she replied, seating herself, and picking up the bowl from the tray. "The horses, you know, were bolting, and by the time Chard had checked them you had lost consciousness, and he knew that it was more important to bring you home than to try to discover who had wounded you. Will you see if you can swallow some broth now? Oh, no! don't disturb yourself! I am going to feed you."

The Earl, who had tried to raise himself, said ruefully: "I seem to be as weak as a cat!"

"You lost a great deal of blood," she said matter-of-factly. "If I were you, I would not try to talk."

"Yes, but I must know—" He broke off, for she had presented a spoon to his lips. He swallowed the broth in it, and said: "This is absurd! I am sure, if you could thrust another pillow behind me, I could feed myself!"

"I expect you could," she agreed, presenting another spoonful. "You may do so, if you wish it very much."

"I ought to do so," he said, smiling, and submitting. "You should be in bed: I am persuaded it must be very late."

"I shall go to bed when you have had your broth. Do not tease yourself! I settled it with Turvey that I should remain with you for the first part of the night."

"Indeed, I am very much obliged to you—and very much ashamed to have put you to such trouble!"

"You need not be. It is no hardship for me. I have frequently helped to nurse my brothers."

He attempted no further expostulation, but after a minute or two said again: "I must know. After I was hit—"

"I am afraid," she interrupted apologetically, "that I can tell you nothing, for I have been almost continually in this room, you know. Chard saw no one, and, as I have said, he dared not stop."

He moved restlessly, frowning. "Yes, but—Lucy must not—I seem to remember hearing him say something! To you, was it?"

"He did say something to me, but there is no need for you to fret yourself, my lord. We are agreed that it would be most improper to give utterance to suspicions for which there may be no real grounds."

A slight smile touched his lips. "You mean that you have prevailed upon Lucy to hold his peace. I might depend on you for good sense!"

"Certainly you might, but it will be better if you think no more on this subject until you are a little stronger," she replied.

"Don't let Lucy quarrel with Martin!"

"He will not do so."

"You don't know him! He must not tax Martin with this, and that is what I fear he may have done."

"I assure you, upon my word, he has not."

"What has Martin said?"

She turned away to put the bowl back on the tray, and answered, without looking at him: "Nothing, my lord."

"Nothing?"

"I have been busy," she reminded him. "I have not seen Martin."

"I daresay you might not, but—"

"I can only tell you that there has been no quarrel with him."