"
Lawler took his master's cloak and hat, and the doctor came up to the
fire.
"So Valentine has gone home to bed?" he said.
"Yes."
"He's all right, I hope?"
"Yes. Indeed, doctor, I thought him looking more fit than usual to-day,
more alive than I have often seen him."
"I noticed that last night, when he revived from his trance. It struck me
very forcibly, very forcibly indeed. But you--" and the doctor's eyes
were on Julian's face--"look older than your age to-night, my boy."
He sat down and lit a cigar. The mastiffs coiled themselves at his feet
rapturously. They sighed, and he sighed too, quietly in satisfaction.
He loved the one hour before midnight, the hour of perfect rest for him.
Putting his feet on Rupert's back, he went on:
"Last night's events upset you seriously, I see, young and strong though
you are. But the most muscular men are more often the prey of their
nervous systems than most people are aware. Spend a few quiet days. Fence
in the morning. Ride--out in the country, not in the Park. Get off your
horse now and then, tie him up at a lych-gate and sit in a village
church. Listen to the amateur organist practising 'Abide with me,' and
the 'Old Hundredth,' on the Leiblich Gedacht and the Dulciana, with the
bourdon on the pedals.
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