The most attentive of all these was the new rector, a young clergyman,
who had obtained the living by exchange. He was a man highly gifted
both in body and mind--a swarthy Adonis, whose large dark eyes from the
very first turned with glowing admiration on the blonde beauties of
Lady Bassett.
He came every day to inquire after her husband; and she sometimes left
the sufferer a minute or two to make her report to him in person. At
other times Mary Wells was sent to him. That artful girl soon
discovered what had escaped her mistress's observation.
The bulletins were favorable, and welcomed on all sides.
Richard Bassett alone was incredulous. "I want to see him about again,"
said he. "Sir Charles is not the man to lie in bed if he was really
better. As for the doctors, they flatter a fellow till the last moment.
Let me see him on his legs, and then I'll believe he is better."
Strange to say, obliging Fate granted Richard Bassett this moderate
request. One frosty but sunny afternoon, as he was inspecting his
coming domain from "The Heir's Tower," he saw the Hall door open, and a
muffled figure come slowly down the steps between two women: It was Sir
Charles, feeble but convalescent. He crept about on the sunny gravel
for about ten minutes, and then his nurses conveyed him tenderly in
again.
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