Johnny Ludlow Third Series Part 33

"There, that's enough," said Mrs. Knox. "The thing is done with, and it cannot be recalled. Janet Carey won't die of it."

Dr. Knox went about Lefford with the box in his hand, making things right. He called in at the police-station; he caused a minute account to be put in the _Lefford News_; he related the details to his private friends. Not once did he allude to Janet Carey, or mention her name: it was as though he would proudly ignore the stigma cast on her and a.s.sume that the world did the same. The world did: but it gave some hard words to Mrs. Knox.

Mr. Tamlyn had not much sympathy for wonders of any kind just then. Poor Bertie, lying cold and still in the chamber above, took up all his thoughts and his grief. Arnold spent a good deal of time with him, and took his round of patients.

It was the night before the funeral, and they were sitting together at twilight in the dining-room. Dr. Knox was looking through the large window at the fountain in the middle of the gra.s.s-plat: Mr. Tamlyn had his face buried; he had not looked up for the last half-hour.

"When is the very earliest time that you can come, Arnold?" he began abruptly.

"As soon as ever they will release me in London. Perhaps that will be in a month; perhaps not until the end of June, when the six months will be up."

Mr. Tamlyn groaned. "I want you at once, Arnold. You are all I have now."

"Shuttleworth must stay until I come."

"Shuttleworth's not you. You must live with me, Arnold?"

"Live with you?"

"Why, of course you must. What am I to do in this large house by myself now _he_ is gone? Bessy will be gone too. I couldn't stand it."

"It would be much more convenient for me to be here, as far as the practice is concerned," remarked Dr. Knox, after reflection.

"And more sociable. Do you never think of marriage, Arnold?"

Dr. Knox turned a little red. "It has been of no use for me to think of it hitherto, you know, sir."

"I wish you would. Some nice, steady girl, who would make things pleasant here for us in Bessy's place. There's room for a wife as well as for you, Arnold. Think of these empty rooms: no one but you and me in them! And you know people like a married medical man better than a single one."

The doctor opened his lips to speak, but his courage failed him; he would leave it to the last thing before he left on the morrow, or else write from London. Tamlyn mistook his silence.

"You'll be well enough off to keep two wives, if the law allowed it, let alone one. From the day you join me, Arnold, half the profits shall be yours--I'll have the deed made out--and the whole practice at my death.

I've no one to save for, now Bertie's gone."

"He is better off; he is in happiness," said Dr. Knox, his voice a little husky.

"Ay. I try to let it console me. But I've no one but you now, Arnold.

And I don't suppose I shall forget you in my will. To confess the truth, turning you away to make room for Shuttleworth has lain on my conscience."

When Arnold reached home that night, Mrs. Knox and her eldest daughter were alone; she reading, Mina dressing a doll. Lefford was a place that went in for propriety, and no one gave soirees while Bertie Tamlyn lay dead. Arnold told Mrs. Knox of the new arrangement.

"Good gracious!" she exclaimed. "Coming back to Lefford! Well, I shall be glad to have you at home again," she added, thinking of the household bills.

"Mr. Tamlyn proposes that I shall live with him," said Dr. Knox.

"But you will never be so stupid as to do that!"

"I have promised to do it. It will be much more convenient."

Mrs. Knox looked sullen, and bit her lips. "How large a share are you to have?"

"I go in as full partner."

"Oh, I am so glad!" cried out Miss Mina--for they all liked their good-natured brother. "Arnold, perhaps you'll go and get married now!"

"Perhaps I may," he answered.

Mrs. Knox dropped her book in the sudden fright. If Arnold married, he might want his house--and turn her out of it! He read the fear in her face.

"We may make some arrangement," said he quietly. "You shall still occupy it and pay me a small nominal rent--five pounds a-year, say--which I shall probably return in toys for the children."

The thought of his marriage had always lain upon her with a dread. "Who is the lady?" she asked.

"The lady? Oh, I can't tell you, I'm sure. I have not asked any one yet."

"Is that all!"

"Quite all--at present."

"I think," said Mrs. Knox slowly, as if deliberating the point with herself, and in the most affectionate of tones, "that you would be happier in a single life, Arnold. One never knows what a wife is till she's tried."

"Do you think so? Well, we must leave it to the future. What will be, will be."

IV.

And now I am taking up the story for myself; I, Johnny Ludlow. Had I gone straight on with it after that last night of Janet's sleep-walking at Miss Deveen's, you would never have understood.

It was on the Sat.u.r.day night that Janet was found out--as any one must remember who took the trouble to count up the nights and days. On the Sunday morning early, Miss Deveen's doctor was sent for. Dr. Galliard happened to be out of town, so Mr. Black attended for him. Cattledon was like vinegar. She looked upon Janet's proceedings as a regular scandal, and begged Miss Deveen's pardon for having brought her niece into the house. Upon which she was requested not to be silly.

Miss Deveen told the whole tale of the lost bank-note, to me and to Helen and Anna Whitney: at least, as much as she knew of it herself.

Janet was innocent as a child; she felt sure of that, she said, and much to be pitied; and that Mrs. Knox, of Lefford, seemed to be a most undesirable sort of person. To us it sounded like a romance, or a story out of a newspaper police-report.

Monday came in; a warm, bright April day. I was returning to Oxford in the evening--and why I had not returned in the past week, as ought to have been the case, there's no s.p.a.ce to tell here. Miss Deveen said we might go for a walk if we liked. But Helen and Anna did not seem to care about it; neither did I, to say the truth. A house with a marvel in it has attractions; and we would by far rather have gone upstairs to see Janet. Janet was better, quite composed, but weak, they said: she was up and dressed, and in Miss Deveen's own blue-room.

"Well, do you mean to go out, or not, you young people?" asked Miss Deveen. "Dear me, here are visitors!"

George came in bringing a card. "Dr. Knox."

"Why!--it must be some one from that woman at Lefford!" exclaimed Miss Deveen, in an undertone to me. "Oh no; I remember now, Johnny; Dr. Knox was the step-son; _he_ was away, and had nothing to do with it. Show Dr.

Knox in, George."

A tall man in black, whom one might have taken anywhere for a doctor, with a grave, nice face, came in. He said his visit was to Miss Carey, as he took the chair George placed near his mistress. Just a few words, and then we knew the whole, and saw a small sealed-up box in his hand, which contained the remains of the bank-note.

"I am more glad than if you brought Janet a purse of gold!" cried Miss Deveen, her eyes sparkling with pleasure. "Not that I think any one could have doubted her, Dr. Knox--not even your step-mother, in her heart,--but it is satisfactory to have it cleared up. It has made Miss Carey very ill; but this will set her at rest."

"Your servant told me Miss Carey was ill," he said. "It was for her I asked."