"Not on your own account, I hope." "I wanted you to come and see Alice Wilson,--and then I thought you would maybe take a look at Mrs Wilson." He bustled on his hat and coat, and followed Mary, instantly. After shaking his head over Alice (as if it was a mournful thing for one so pure and good, so true, although so humble a Christian, to be nearing her desired haven), and muttering the accustomed words intended to destroy hope, and prepare anticipation, he went in compliance with Mary's look to ask the usual questions of Mrs Wilson, who sat passively in her arm-chair. She answered his questions, and submitted to his examination. "How do you think her?" asked Mary, eagerly. "Why--a," began he, perceiving that he was desired to take one side in his answer, and unable to find out whether his listener was anxious for a favourable verdict or otherwise; but thinking it most probable that she would desire the former, he continued, "She is weak, certainly; the natural result of such a shock as the arrest of her son would be,--for I understand this James Wilson, who murdered Mr Carson, was her son. Sad thing to have such a reprobate in the family." "You say ' who murdered,' sir!" said Mary, indignantly. "He is only taken up on suspicion, and many have no doubt of his innocence--those who know him, sir." "Ah, well, well! doctors have seldom time to read newspapers, and I daresay I'm not very correct in my story. I dare say he's innocent; I'm sure I had no right to say otherwise,--only words slip out--No indeed, young woman, I see no cause for apprehension about this poor creature in the next room;--weak--certainly; but a day or two's good nursing will set her up, and I'm sure you're a good nurse, my dear, from your pretty kind-hearted face,--I'll send a couple of pills and a draught, but don't alarm yourself--there's no occasion, I assure you." "But you don't think her fit to go to Liverpool?" asked Mary, still in the anxious tone of one who wishes earnestly for some particular decision. "To Liverpool--yes," replied he. "A short journey like that couldn't fatigue, and might distract her thoughts. Let her go by all means,--it would be the very thing for her." "Oh, sir!" burst out Mary, almost sobbing; "I did so hope you would say she was too ill to go." "Whew--" said he, with a prolonged whistle, trying to understand the case; but, being, as he said, no reader of newspapers, utterly unaware of the peculiar reasons there might be for so apparently unfeeling a wish,-- "Why did you not tell me so sooner? It might certainly do her harm in her weak state! there is always some risk attending journeys--draughts, and what not. To her they might prove very injurious,--very. I disapprove of journeys or excitement, in all cases where the patient is in the low, fluttered state in which Mrs Wilson is. If you take my advice, you will certainly put a stop to all thoughts of going to Liverpool." He really had completely changed his opinion, though quite unconsciously; so desirous was he to comply with the wishes of others. "Oh, sir, thank you! And will you give me a certificate of her being unable to go, if the lawyer says we must have one? The lawyer, you know," continued she, seeing him look puzzled, "who is to defend Jem,--it was as a witness against him----" "My dear girl!" said he, almost angrily, "why did you not state the case fully at first? one minute would have done it,--and my dinner waiting all this time. To be sure, she can't go,--it would be madness to think of it; if her evidence could have done good, it would have been a different thing.
Come to me for the certificate any time; that is to say, if the lawyer advises you. I second the lawyer; take counsel with both the learned professions--ha, ha, ha." And laughing at his own joke, he departed, leaving Mary accusing herself of stupidity in having imagined that every one was as well acquainted with the facts concerning the trial as she was herself; for indeed she had never doubted that the doctor would have been aware of the purpose of poor Mrs Wilson's journey to Liverpool. Presently she went to Job (the ever ready Mrs Davenport keeping watch over the two old women), and told him her fears, her plans, and her proceedings. To her surprise he shook his head, doubtfully. "It may have an awkward look, if we keep her back. Lawyers is up to tricks." "But it is no trick," said Mary. "She is so poorly, she was last night so, at least; and to-day she's so faded and weak." "Poor soul! I dare say. I only mean for Jem's sake; and so much is known, it won't do now to hang back. But I'll ask Mr Bridgenorth. I'll e'en take your doctor's advice. Yo tarry at home, and I'll come to yo in an hour's time. Go your ways, wench."
