She did not care, I suppose, what
sort of feelings she might excite, for she went on mumbling sarcastically
to herself. I had paused, and overcame my reluctance to speak to her again,
for I was really very much frightened. 'Do you think he is in danger? Shall
we send for a doctor?' I whispered.
'Law bless ye, the doctor knows all about it, miss.' The old woman's face
had a gleam of that derision which is so shocking in the features of
feebleness and age.
'But it is a _fit_, it is paralytic, or something horrible--it can't be
_safe_ to leave him to chance or nature to get through these terrible
attacks.'
'There's no fear of him, 'tisn't no fits at all, he's nout the worse o't.
Jest silly a bit now and again. It's been the same a dozen year and more;
and the doctor knows all about it,' answered the old woman sturdily. 'And
ye'll find he'll be as mad as bedlam if ye make any stir about it.'
That night I talked the matter over with Mary Quince.
'They're very dark, miss; but I think he takes a deal too much laudlum,'
said Mary.
To this hour I cannot say what was the nature of those periodical seizures.
Pages:
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404