Lady Scarlett was not there; but it did not excite any surprise; and the doctor stood for some minutes thinking, from his post of observation, that Naomi was a very sweet girl, as nice and simple as she was pretty, and that she would make a man who loved her, one of those gentle equable wives who never change.

"Very different from Lady Scarlett," he said to himself, as he stood there invisible, but for the glowing end of his cigar. "Ha! I don't like the way in which things are going, a bit."

He walked on over the soft mossy gra.s.s, with his feet sinking in at every step, and his hands in his pockets, round past the dining-room to where a soft glow shone out from the study window; and on pausing where he could obtain a good view, he stood for some time watching his friend's countenance, as James Scarlett sat back in his chair with the light from the shaded lamp full upon his face.

"I'm about beaten," the doctor said to himself. "I've tried all I know; and I'm beginning to think that they are all right, and that if Nature does not step in, or fate, or whatever it may be, does not give him some powerful shock, he will remain the wreck he is, perhaps to the end of his days.--Yes, I'm about beaten," he thought again, as he seized this opportunity of studying his friend's face un.o.bserved; "but I'm as far off giving up, as I was on the day I started. I won't give it over as a bad job; but how to go on next, I cannot say.--Just the same," he muttered after a time, as he noted one or two uneasy movements, and saw a curious wrinkled expression come into the thin troubled face. "Poor old boy! I'd give something to work a cure.--By the way, where's Prayle? I thought he was here."

The doctor thrust his hands more deeply into his pockets and strolled away, threading his course in and out amongst the flower-beds, and then, thinking deeply, going on and on down first one green path and then another, his footsteps perfectly inaudible. As he walked on, his mind grew so intent upon the question of his patient's state, that the cigar went out, and he contented himself with rolling it to and fro between his lips, till he paused involuntarily beside a seat under the tall green hedge that separated the garden from one of the meadows.

"Damp?" said the doctor to himself, as he pa.s.sed one hand over the seat.

"No; dry as a bone;" and he seated himself, throwing up his legs, and leaning back in the corner, listening to the soft crop, crop, crop of one of the cows, still busy in the darkness preparing gra.s.s for rumination during the night. "I wonder whether cows ever have any troubles on their minds?" thought Scales. "Yes; of course they do.

Calves are taken away, and they fret, and--Hallo! Who's this?"

He tried to pierce the darkness as he heard heavy breathing, and the dull sound of footsteps coming along the walk, the heavy sound of one who was clumsy of tread, and who was coming cautiously towards him.

"Some scoundrel after the pears. I'll startle him."

He had every opportunity for carrying out his plan, for the steps came closer, stopped, and he who had made them drew a long breath, and though the movements were not visible, Scales knew, as well as if he had seen each motion, that the man before him had taken off his hat and was wiping the perspiration from his face.

"Hallo!"

The man started and made a step back; and the doctor told a fib.

"Oh, you needn't run," he said. "I see you. I know who you are."

"I--I wasn't going to run, sir," said John Monnick softly.

"What are you doing here?"

"Well, sir, you see, sir--I--I have got a trap or two down the garden here, and--and--I've been seeing whether there's anything in. You see, sir," continued the old gardener in an eager whisper, "the rarebuds do such a mort o' mischief among my young plahnts, that I'm druv-like-- reg'lar druv-like--to snare 'em."

It was rather high moral ground for a man to take who had just told a deliberate untruth; but Doctor Scales took it, and said sharply: "John Monnick, you are telling me a lie!"

"A lie, sir!" whispered the old man. "Hush, sir! pray."

"Are you afraid the rabbits will hear me?--Shame, man! An old servant like you.--John Monnick, you know me."

"Ay, sir, I do."

"Now, don't you feel ashamed of yourself, an old servant, like you, with always a Scripture text on your tongue, telling me a lie like that about the traps?"

The gardener was silent, and the doctor heard him draw a long breath.

"Well, sir," he said at last--"and I hope I may be forgiven, as I meant well--it weer not the truth."

"Then you were after the fruit?"

"I? After the fruit, sir? Bless your heart, no; I was only watching."

"What! for thieves?"

The gardener hesitated, and remained silent.

"There, that's better; don't tell a lie, man. I think the better of you. But shame upon you! with your poor master broken, helpless, and obliged to depend upon his people. To go and rob him now, of all times.

John Monnick, you are a contemptible, canting old humbug."

"No, I aren't, doctor," said the old fellow angrily; "and you'll beg my pardon for this."

"Beg your pardon?"

"Ay, that you will, sir. It was all on account of master, and him not being able to look after things, as brought me here."

"I don't believe you, Monnick."

"You can do as you like, sir," said the old man st.u.r.dily; "but it's all as true as gorspel. I couldn't bear to see such goings-on; and I says to myself, it's time as they was stopped; and I thought they was, till I come in late to lock up the peach-house, and see her go down the garden."

The doctor rose from his seat, startled.

"And then I says to myself, he won't be long before he comes, for its a pyntment."

"Yes. Well?" said the doctor, who, generally cool to excess, now felt his heart heating strangely.

"Oh, you needn't believe it without you like, sir. I dessay I am a canting old humbug, sir; but far as in me lies, I means well by him, as I've eat his bread and his father's afore him this many a year."

"I'm afraid I've wronged you, Monnick," said the doctor hastily.

"You aren't the first by a good many, sir; but you may as well speak low, or they'll maybe hear, for I walked up torst the house, and I see him pa.s.s the window, and then I watched him. P'r'aps I oughtn't, but I knowed it weren't right, and Sir James ought to know."

"You--you knew of this, then?"

"Yes, sir. Was it likely I shouldn't, when it was all in my garden!

Why, a slug don't get at a leaf, or a battletwig, or wops at a plum, without me knowing of it; so, was it likely as a gent was going to carry on like that wi'out me finding of it out?"

"And--and is he down the garden now?" said the doctor, involuntarily pressing his hand to his side, to check the action of his heart.

"Ay, that he be, sir; and him a gent as seemed so religious and good, and allus saying proper sort o' things. It's set me agen saying ought script'ral evermore."

There was a dead silence for a few moments; and then the doctor hissed out: "The scoundrel!"

"Ay, that's it, sir; and of course it's all his doing, for she was so good and sweet; and it's touched me quite like to the heart, sir, for master thought so much o' she."

"Good heavens!--then my suspicions were right!"

"You suspected too, sir? Well, I don't wonder."

"No, no; it is impossible, Monnick, impossible. Man, it must be a mistake."

"Well, sir," said the old fellow st.u.r.dily, "maybe it be. All of us makes mistakes sometimes, and suspects wrongfully. Even you, sir. But I'm pretty sure as I'm right; and for her sake, I'm going to go and tell master, and have it stopped."