When I yielded my place in the sick-room to Martha and went to bed, my heart was not only at ease for the night, but I feared nothing for the next day with my uncle on my side--or rather on John's side.
We were just rising from our early dinner, for we were old-fashioned people, when up drove a grand carriage, with two strong footmen behind, and a servant in plain clothes on the box by the coachman. It pulled up at the door, and the man on the box got down and rang the bell, while his fellows behind got down also, and stood together a little way behind him. My uncle at once went to the hall, but no more than in time, for there was Penny already on her way to open the door. He opened it himself, and stood on the threshold.
“If you please, sir,” said the man, not without arrogance, “we're come to take Mr. Day home.”
“Tell your mistress,” returned my uncle, “that Mr. Day has expressed no desire to return, and is much too unwell to be informed of her ladyship's wish.”
“Begging your pardon, sir,” said the man, “we have her ladyship's orders to bring him. We'll take every possible care of him. The carriage is an extra-easy one, and I'll sit inside with the young gentleman myself. If he ain't right in his head, he'll never know nothink till he comes to himself in his own bed.”
My uncle had let the man talk, but his anger was fast rising.
“I cannot let him go. I would not send a beggar to the hospital in the state he is in.”
“But, indeed, sir, you must! We have our orders.”
“If you fancy I will dismiss a guest of mine at the order of any human being, were it the queen's own majesty,” said my uncle--I heard the words, and with my mind's eyes saw the blue flash of his as he said them--“you will find yourself mistaken.”
“I'm sorry,” said the man quietly, “but I have my orders! Let me pass, please. It is my business to find the young gentleman, and take him home. No one can have the right to keep him against his mother's will, especially when he's not in a fit state to judge for himself.”
“Happily I am in a fit state to judge for him,” said my uncle, coldly.
“I dare not go back without him. Let me pass,” he returned, raising his voice a little, and approaching the door as if he would force his way.