He knew that he ought to say,
"Thy will be done;" and he said it often.
But the intense desire remained that the will of God might be the death of that hated man.
Yet when he arrived at Stone Court he could not see the change in Raffles without a shock.
But for his pallor and feebleness, Bulstrode would have called the change in him entirely mental.
Instead of his loud tormenting mood, he showed an intense, vague terror, and seemed to deprecate Bulstrode's anger, because the money was all gone—he had been robbed—it had half of it been taken from him.
He had only come here because he was ill and somebody was hunting him—somebody was after him, he had told nobody anything, he had kept his mouth shut.
Bulstrode, not knowing the significance of these symptoms, interpreted this new nervous susceptibility into a means of alarming Raffles into true confessions, and taxed him with falsehood in saying that he had not told anything, since he had just told the man who took him up in his gig and brought him to Stone Court.
Raffles denied this with solemn adjurations; the fact being that the links of consciousness were interrupted in him, and that his minute terror-stricken narrative to Caleb Garth had been delivered under a set of visionary impulses which had dropped back into darkness.
Bulstrode's heart sank again at this sign that he could get no grasp over the wretched man's mind, and that no word of Raffles could be trusted as to the fact which he most wanted to know, namely, whether or not he had really kept silence to every one in the neighborhood except Caleb Garth.
The housekeeper had told him without the least constraint of manner that since Mr. Garth left, Raffles had asked her for beer, and after that had not spoken, seeming very ill.
On that side it might be concluded that there had been no betrayal.
Mrs. Abel thought, like the servants at The Shrubs, that the strange man belonged to the unpleasant "kin" who are among the troubles of the rich; she had at first referred the kinship to Mr. Rigg, and where there was property left, the buzzing presence of such large blue-bottles seemed natural enough.
How he could be "kin" to Bulstrode as well was not so clear, but Mrs. Abel agreed with her husband that there was "no knowing," a proposition which had a great deal of mental food for her, so that she shook her head over it without further speculation.
In less than an hour Lydgate arrived.
Bulstrode met him outside the wainscoted parlor, where Raffles was, and said—
"I have called you in, Mr. Lydgate, to an unfortunate man who was once in my employment, many years ago.
Afterwards he went to America, and returned I fear to an idle dissolute life.
Being destitute, he has a claim on me.
He was slightly connected with Rigg, the former owner of this place, and in consequence found his way here.
I believe he is seriously ill: apparently his mind is affected.
I feel bound to do the utmost for him."
Lydgate, who had the remembrance of his last conversation with Bulstrode strongly upon him, was not disposed to say an unnecessary word to him, and bowed slightly in answer to this account; but just before entering the room he turned automatically and said,
"What is his name?"—to know names being as much a part of the medical man's accomplishment as of the practical politician's.
"Raffles, John Raffles," said Bulstrode, who hoped that whatever became of Raffles, Lydgate would never know any more of him.
When he had thoroughly examined and considered the patient, Lydgate ordered that he should go to bed, and be kept there in as complete quiet as possible, and then went with Bulstrode into another room.
"It is a serious case, I apprehend," said the banker, before Lydgate began to speak.
"No—and yes," said Lydgate, half dubiously.
"It is difficult to decide as to the possible effect of long-standing complications; but the man had a robust constitution to begin with.
I should not expect this attack to be fatal, though of course the system is in a ticklish state.
He should be well watched and attended to."
"I will remain here myself," said Bulstrode.
"Mrs. Abel and her husband are inexperienced.
I can easily remain here for the night, if you will oblige me by taking a note for Mrs. Bulstrode."
"I should think that is hardly necessary," said Lydgate.
"He seems tame and terrified enough.
He might become more unmanageable.
But there is a man here—is there not?"
"I have more than once stayed here a few nights for the sake of seclusion," said Bulstrode, indifferently;
"I am quite disposed to do so now.
Mrs. Abel and her husband can relieve or aid me, if necessary."
"Very well.
Then I need give my directions only to you," said Lydgate, not feeling surprised at a little peculiarity in Bulstrode.
"You think, then, that the case is hopeful?" said Bulstrode, when Lydgate had ended giving his orders.
"Unless there turn out to be further complications, such as I have not at present detected—yes," said Lydgate.
"He may pass on to a worse stage; but I should not wonder if he got better in a few days, by adhering to the treatment I have prescribed.
There must be firmness.
Remember, if he calls for liquors of any sort, not to give them to him.
In my opinion, men in his condition are oftener killed by treatment than by the disease.
Still, new symptoms may arise.