--Thoughts in Past Years

Five days had passed, and no material change had taken place. There was
no serious recurrence of bleeding, but the inflammation did not abate,
and the suffering was grievous, though Arthur was so much enfeebled
that he could not struggle under it. His extreme debility made his body
passive, but it was painfully evident that his mind was as anxious and
ill at ease as ever. There was the same distrustful watch to see every
letter, and know all that passed; the constant strain of every faculty,
all in absolute silence, so that his nurses, especially Theodora, felt
as if it would be a positive personal relief to them if those eyes would
be closed for one minute.

What would they have given to know what passed in that sleepless mind?
But anything that could lead to speaking or agitation was forbidden;
even, to the great grief of Theodora, the admission of the clergyman
of the parish. Lord Martindale agreed with the doctors that it was too
great a risk, and Violet allowed them to decide, whispering to Theodora
that she thought he heeded Johnnie's prayers more than anything read
with a direct view to himself. The cause of his anxiety remained in
doubt. Lord Martindale had consulted Violet, but she knew nothing of
any papers. She was aware that his accounts were mixed up with Mr.
Gardner's, and believed he had gone to Boulogne to settle them; and she
conjectured that he had found himself more deeply involved than he had
expected. She remembered his having said something of being undone, and
his words to Johnnie seemed to bear the same interpretation.

Mr. Fotheringham's apparition was also a mystery; so strange was it
that, after bringing Arthur home in such a state, he should offer no
further assistance. James was desired to ask him to come in, if he
should call to inquire; but he did not appear, and the father and sister
began to have vague apprehensions, which they would not for the world
have avowed to each other, that there must be worse than folly, for what
save disgrace would have kept Percy from aiding John's brother in his
distress? Each morning rose on them with dread of what the day might
bring forth, not merely from the disease within, but from the world
without; each postman's knock was listened to with alarm, caught from
poor Arthur.

His wife was of course spared much of this. That worst fear could not
occur to her; she had no room for any thought but for him as he was in
the si