He woke in the morning so unrefreshed and strengthless that he sent for

the doctor. After sounding him, the fellow pulled a face as long as your

arm, and ordered him to stay in bed and give up smoking. That was no

hardship; there was nothing to get up for, and when he felt ill,

tobacco always lost its savour. He spent the morning languidly with the

sun-blinds down, turning and re-turning The Times, not reading much, the

dog Balthasar lying beside his bed. With his lunch they brought him a

telegram, running thus:

'Your letter received coming down this afternoon will be with you at

four-thirty. Irene.'

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Coming down! After all! Then she did exist--and he was not deserted.

Coming down! A glow ran through his limbs; his cheeks and forehead felt

hot. He drank his soup, and pushed the tray-table away, lying very quiet

until they had removed lunch and left him alone; but every now and then

his eyes twinkled. Coming down! His heart beat fast, and then did

not seem to beat at all. At three o'clock he got up and dressed

deliberately, noiselessly. Holly and Mam'zelle would be in the

schoolroom, and the servants asleep after their dinner, he shouldn't

wonder. He opened his door cautiously, and went downstairs. In the hall

the dog Balthasar lay solitary, and, followed by him, old Jolyon passed

into his study and out into the burning afternoon. He meant to go down

and meet her in the coppice, but felt at once he could not manage that

in this heat. He sat down instead under the oak tree by the swing, and

the dog Balthasar, who also felt the heat, lay down beside him. He sat

there smiling. What a revel of bright minutes! What a hum of insects,

and cooing of pigeons! It was the quintessence of a summer day. Lovely!

And he was happy--happy as a sand-boy, whatever that might be. She

was coming; she had not given him up! He had everything in life he

wanted--except a little more breath, and less weight--just here! He

would see her when she emerged from the fernery, come swaying just a

little, a violet-grey figure passing over the daisies and dandelions and

'soldiers' on the lawn--the soldiers with their flowery crowns. He would

not move, but she would come up to him and say: 'Dear Uncle Jolyon, I am

sorry!' and sit in the swing and let him look at her and tell her that

he had not been very well but was all right now; and that dog would lick

her hand. That dog knew his master was fond of her; that dog was a good

dog.




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