"Aaron, what do you think Dr. Spreckley has been telling me this morning?" he suddenly asked.
"I'm a bad hand at guessing, Squire, as you ought to know by this time," was the somewhat ungracious answer.
"He tells me that I shall not live to see the twenty-fourth of next April."
Aaron's rugged face turned as white as it was possible for it to turn; a small tray that he had in his hands fell with a crash to the ground.
"Oh! master, don't say that--don't say that!" he groaned.
"But I must say it: and what's more, I feel it may be true," returned the Squire.
"I can't believe it; and I won't," stammered the old servant: who, whatever his faults of temper might have been, was passionately attached to his master. Aaron had never seriously thought the end was so near. The Squire had had these queer attacks, it was true: but did he not always rally from them and seem as well as ever? Why, look at him now!
"Spreckley must be a fool, sir, to say such a thing as that! Had he been at the whisky bottle?"
"I forced the truth from him," spoke the Squire. "It is always safest to get at the truth, however unpalatable it may be. Eh, now?"
"I'm fairly dazed," said the old man. "But I don't believe it. When you go, master, it will be time for me to go too."
"It's not that I'm afraid to go," said the Squire--"when did a Denison fear to die?--and Heaven knows my life has not been such a pleasant one of late years that I need greatly care to find the end near. It's the property, Aaron--this old roof-tree and all the broad acres--you know who will come in for them if I don't live to see next April."
The old serving-man's mouth worked convulsively; he tried to speak but could not. Tears streamed down his rugged cheeks. Pretending to busy himself about the fireplace, he kept his back turned to the Squire.
"If it were not for that, I should not care how soon my summons came," continued Mr. Denison; "but it's hard to have the apple snatched from you at the moment of victory. I would give half that I'm possessed of to anyone who would insure my living to the end of next April. Why not?"
"What's Spreckley but an old woman? he don't know," said Aaron. "Why don't you have some of the big doctors down from London, sir? Like enough they could pull you through when Spreckley can't."