Mr. Carlton, smiling inwardly at the woman’s superstition.
“We can none of us tell beforehand, sir, what the ill hanging over us may be, or from what quarter it will come,” was the answer. “Perhaps you were going a journey?—I don’t know, sir, of course—or who you may be; but if you were, I should say halt in it, and turn aside from the road you were bound for.”
“My good woman, I do think you must be out of your mind!” exclaimed Mr. Carlton.
“No, I am not, sir: but perhaps I have observed more and keener than most folks do. I’m certain—I’m convinced by experience, that many of these accidents, these hindrances, are only warnings—if we was but wise enough to take ’em as such. You now, sir, were on your road to some place—"
“To South Wennock, a mile off,” interrupted Mr. Carlton, some satire in his tone.
“South Wennock; so be it, sir. Then what I’d say is, was I you I’d not go on to South Wennock: I’d rather turn myself round and go back whence I come. This may be sent as a warning to stop your journey there.”
But for the untoward and vexatious circumstances around him, the surgeon would have laughed outright. “Why, I live at South Wennock,” he exclaimed, raising his head from his man-servant, over whom it had been again bent. “But the question now is not what luck, good or ill, may be in store for me,” he added, turning to the horse, “but where and how I can get assistance. Here’s a helpless horse, and there’s a helpless man. First of all, can you bring me a little water.”
She went away without a word, and brought a brown pitcher full of it, and a small cup. Mr. Carlton took them from her.
“And now can you go to the Red Lion at South Wennock, and tell them to send the necessary aid?”
“I’m willing, sir. My husband won’t take no harm at being left: though it’s mighty ill he is.”
“Who attends him?”
“I’ve had nobody to him as yet. We poor folks can’t afford a doctor till things come to the very worst with us, and life’s almost on the ebb.”
“Which is unwise policy of you,” remarked Mr. Carlton. “Well, my good woman, you do this little service for me, and I’ll step in us soon as you bring assistance, and see what I can do for your husband.”
“Are you a doctor, sir?”
“I am. Let Mrs. Fitch send an easy carriage: and a couple of men had better come with it. But, I think as you do, that my horse is lying there in temper more than in real hurt.”
“Is he hurt, sir, do you think?” she asked, pointing to the men.
“I think he is only stunned. Make the best of your way for this help, there’s a good soul. Tell Mrs. Fitch it is for Mr. Carlton.”
The woman, strong and sturdy, strode away with a will that Mr. Carlton himself could not have surpassed, and was back again with all requisite aid, in a short space of time. Mr. Carlton had got his horse up then. It appeared to have sprained its leg, but to have received no other damage. Evan was still unconscious. The surgeon snatched a moment to go in and look at the women’s husband, whom he found suffering from low fever. He told her, if she would come to his house the following morning, he would give her certain medicines suitable for him.
Great commotion the damaged procession caused when it made its entry into South Wennock; greater commotion still at the dwelling of Mr. Carlton. The horse was led round to the stable and a veterinary surgeon sent for, and Mr. Carlton himself attended to his man. Evan had recovered consciousness during the journey, and his master found his injuries were but slight.
Mr. Carlton had remembered the value of appearance when he took this house,-one of more pretension than a young surgeon need have entered upon. On either side the entrance was a sitting-room: a rather fine staircase led above to o handsome drawing-room, and to spacious bed-rooms. The drawing-room and some of the bed-rooms were not furnished; but there was plenty of time for that.
Evan attended to, Mr. Carlton went down to the hall, and turned ine front; the other, a large low, bay window, looking on the garden, at the side of the house. Both the windows had the blinds drawn now, and the room was only lighted by fire. Mr. Carlton gave it a vigorous poke to stir it into a blaze, and rang the bell.
It was answered by a maid-servant, a respectable woman of middle age. This woman, Evan the groom, and a boy, comprised the household. The boy’s work was to carry out the medicines, and to stop in the surgery and answer callers at other times.
“I want Ben, Hannah.”
“Yes, sir; I’ll send him in. You’ll take something to eat, won’t you, sir?”
“I should like something; I have had nothing since breakfast this morning. What have you in the house?”
