MIDDLEMARCH (Completed)

Chapter 69

"If thou hast heard a word, let it die with thee."

--Ecclesiasticus.

Mr. Bulstrode was still seated in his manager's room at the Bank,

about three o'clock of the same day on which he had received Lydgate

there, when the clerk entered to say that his horse was waiting,

and also that Mr. Garth was outside and begged to speak with him.

"By all means," said Bulstrode; and Caleb entered. "Pray sit down,

Mr. Garth," continued the banker, in his suavest tone.

"I am glad that you arrived just in time to find me here.

I know you count your minutes."

"Oh," said Caleb, gently, with a slow swing of his head on one side,

as he seated himself and laid his hat on the floor.

He looked at the ground, leaning forward and letting his long fingers

droop between his legs, while each finger moved in succession,

as if it were sharing some thought which filled his large quiet brow.

Mr. Bulstrode, like every one else who knew Caleb, was used

to his slowness in beginning to speak on any topic which he felt

to be important, and rather expected that he was about to recur

to the buying of some houses in Blindman's Court, for the sake

of pulling them down, as a sacrifice of property which would be

well repaid by the influx of air and light on that spot. It was

by propositions of this kind that Caleb was sometimes troublesome

to his employers; but he had usually found Bulstrode ready to meet

him in projects of improvement, and they had got on well together.

When he spoke again, however, it was to say, in rather a subdued voice--

"I have just come away from Stone Court, Mr. Bulstrode."

"You found nothing wrong there, I hope," said the banker; "I was

there myself yesterday. Abel has done well with the lambs this year."

"Why, yes," said Caleb, looking up gravely, "there is something wrong--

a stranger, who is very ill, I think. He wants a doctor, and I came

to tell you of that. His name is Raffles."

He saw the shock of his words passing through Bulstrode's frame.

On this subject the banker had thought that his fears were too constantly

on the watch to be taken by surprise; but he had been mistaken.

"Poor wretch!" he said in a compassionate tone, though his lips

trembled a little. "Do you know how he came there?"

"I took him myself," said Caleb, quietly--"took him up in my gig.

He had got down from the coach, and was walking a little

beyond the turning from the toll-house, and I overtook him.