Lydia Graham was too far from the two figures to hear a word that was
spoken. She could only watch their gestures, and draw her own
inferences therefrom.
"My carriage, Mr. Carrington!" repeated Honoria; "why don't you call
the servants?"
"One moment, Lady Eversleigh," said the surgeon, calmly. "You must
remember, that on such an occasion as this, there is nothing so
important as presence of mind--self-command. If I alarm your servants,
all the guests assembled here will take the alarm; and they will rush
helter-skelter to Yarborough Tower, to testify their devotion to Sir
Oswald, and to do him all the harm they possibly can. What would be the
effect of a crowd of half-drunken men, clustering round him, with their
noisy expressions of sympathy? What I have to propose is this: I am
going to Sir Oswald immediately in my medical capacity. I have a gig
and horse ready, under that group of fir-trees yonder--the fastest
horse and lightest vehicle I could find. If you will trust yourself in
that vehicle behind that horse, I will drive you across the moor, and
we shall reach the ruins in half an hour. Have you courage to come with
me thus, Lady Eversleigh, quietly, unobserved by any one?--or will you
wait for your barouche; and wait until the revellers yonder are all
ready to start with you?"
The voices came loudly from the marquee as the surgeon spoke; and
Honoria felt that he spoke wisely.
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