I ought to have mentioned that, as my uncle went to the door, he took from a rack in the hall a whip with a bamboo stock, which he generally carried when he rode. His answer to the man was a smart, though left-handed blow with the stock across his face: they were too near for the thong. He staggered back, and stood holding his hand to his face. His fellow-servants, who, during the colloquy, had looked on with gentlemanlike imperturbability, made a simultaneous step forward. My uncle sent the thong with a hiss about their ears. They sprang toward him in a fury, but halted immediately and recoiled. He had drawn a small swordlike weapon, which I did not know to be there, from the stock of the whip. He gave one swift glance behind him. I was in the hall at his back.
I shut him out, and ran to a window in the little drawing-room, which commanded the door. Never had I seen him look as now--his pale face pale no longer, but flushed with anger. Neither, indeed, until that moment had I ever seen the _natural_ look of anger, the expression of _pure_ anger. There was nothing mean or ugly in it--not an atom of hate. But how his eyes blazed!
“Go back,” he cried, in a voice far more stern than loud. “If one of you set foot on the lowest step, and I will run him through.”
The men saw he meant it; they saw the closed door, and my uncle with his back to it. They turned and spoke to each other. The coachman sat immovable on his box. They mounted, and he drove away.
I ran and opened the door. My uncle came in with a smile. He went up the stair, and I followed him to the room where the invalid lay. We were both anxious to learn if he had been disturbed.
He was leaning on his elbow, listening. He looked a good deal more like himself.
“I knew you would defend me, sir!” he said, with a respectful confidence which could not but please my uncle.
“You did not want to go home--did you?” he asked with a smile.
“I should have thrown myself out of the carriage!” answered John; “--that is, if they had got me into it. But, please, tell me, sir,” he went on, “how it is I find myself in your house? I have been puzzling over it all the morning. I have no recollection of coming.”
“You understand, I fancy,” rejoined my uncle, “that one of the family has a notion she can take better care of you than anybody else! Is not that enough to account for it?”