“You are less hopeful?”
“No; I still think he may come round. Are you going to stay here yourself?” said Lydgate, looking at Bulstrode with an abrupt question, which made him uneasy, though in reality it was not due to any suspicious conjecture.
“Yes, I think so,” said Bulstrode, governing himself and speaking with deliberation. “Mrs Bulstrode is advised of the reasons which detain me. Mrs Abel and her husband are not experienced enough to be left quite alone, and this kind of responsibility is scarcely included in their service of me. You have some fresh instructions, I presume.”
The chief new instruction that Lydgate had to give was on the administration of extremely moderate doses of opium, in case of the sleeplessness continuing after several hours. He had taken the precaution of bringing opium in his pocket, and he gave minute directions to Bulstrode as to the doses, and the point at which they should cease. He insisted on the risk of not ceasing; and repeated his order that no alcohol should be given.
“From what I see of the case,” he ended, “narcotism is the only thing I should be much afraid of. He may wear through even without much food. There’s a good deal of strength in him.”
“You look ill yourself, Mr Lydgate—a most unusual, I may say unprecedented thing in my knowledge of you,” said Bulstrode, showing a solicitude as unlike his indifference the day before, as his present recklessness about his own fatigue was unlike his habitual self-cherishing anxiety. “I fear you are harassed.”
“Yes, I am,” said Lydgate, brusquely, holding his hat, and ready to go.
“Something new, I fear,” said Bulstrode, inquiringly. “Pray be seated.”
“No, thank you,” said Lydgate, with some hauteur. “I mentioned to you yesterday what was the state of my affairs. There is nothing to add, except that the execution has since then been actually put into my house. One can tell a good deal of trouble in a short sentence. I will say good-morning.”
“Stay, Mr Lydgate, stay,” said Bulstrode; “I have been reconsidering this subject. I was yesterday taken by surprise, and saw it superficially. Mrs Bulstrode is anxious for her niece, and I myself should grieve at a calamitous change in your position. Claims on me are numerous, but on reconsideration, I esteem it right that I should incur a small sacrifice rather than leave you unaided. You said, I think, that a thousand pounds would suffice entirely to free you from your burthens, and enable you to recover a firm stand?”
“Yes,” said Lydgate, a great leap of joy within him surmounting every other feeling; “that would pay all my debts, and leave me a little on hand. I could set about economising in our way of living. And by-and-by my practice might look up.”
“If you will wait a moment, Mr Lydgate, I will draw a cheque to
