Chapter 27 - Page 2

people, but never seeing them,--almost sick with longing for
that one half-hour--that one brief space of time when she clung
to him, and her heart beat against his--to come once again.

'Why, Mr. Thornton you're cutting me very coolly, I must say. And
how is Mrs. Thornton? Brave weather this! We doctors don't like
it, I can tell you!'

'I beg your pardon, Dr. Donaldson. I really didn't see you. My
mother's quite well, thank you. It is a fine day, and good for
the harvest, I hope. If the wheat is well got in, we shall have a
brisk trade next year, whatever you doctors have.'

'Ay, ay. Each man for himself Your bad weather, and your bad
times, are my good ones. When trade is bad, there's more
undermining of health, and preparation for death, going on among
you Milton men than you're aware of.'

'Not with me, Doctor. I'm made of iron. The news of the worst bad
debt I ever had, never made my pulse vary. This strike, which
affects me more than any one else in Milton,--more than
Hamper,--never comes near my appetite. You must go elsewhere for
a patient, Doctor.'

'By the way, you've recommended me a good patient, poor lady! Not
to go on talking in this heartless way, I seriously believe that
Mrs. Hale--that lady in Crampton, you know--hasn't many weeks to
live. I never had any hope of cure, as I think I told you; but
I've been seeing her to-day, and I think very badly of her.'

Mr. Thornton was silent. The vaunted steadiness of pulse failed
him for an instant.

'Can I do anything, Doctor?' he asked, in an altered voice. 'You
know--you would see, that money is not very plentiful; are there
any comforts or dainties she ought to have?'

'No,' replied the Doctor, shaking his head. 'She craves for
fruit,--she has a constant fever on her; but jargonelle pears
will do as well as anything, and there are quantities of them in
the market.'

'You will tell me, if there is anything I can do, I'm sure,
replied Mr. Thornton. 'I rely upon you.'

'Oh! never fear! I'll not spare your purse,--I know it's deep
enough. I wish you'd give me carte-blanche for all my patients,
and all their wants.'

But Mr. Thornton had no general benevolence,--no universal
philanthropy; few even would have given him credit for strong
affections. But he went straight to the first fruit-shop in
Milton, and chose out the bunch of purple grapes with the most
delicate bloom upon them,--the richest-coloured peaches,--the
freshest vine-leaves. They were packed into a basket, and the
shopman awaited the answer to his inquiry, 'Where shall we send
them to, sir?'

There was no reply. 'To Marlborough Mills, I suppose, sir?'

'No!' Mr. Thornton said. 'Give the basket to