The Argosy — page 135: what you’re looking at

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122 Roger Bevere. here should tell him. It would not make any difference to me if he did,” she concluded, with candour. And as I felt sure it would not, I held my tongue. By degrees, as the days went on, Roger got about again, and when I left London he was back at St. Bartholomew’s. Other uncanny things had happened to me during this visit of mine, but not one of them brought with it so heavy a weight as the thought of poor Roger Bevere and his blighted life. ‘Fis health may get all right if he will give up drinking,” were the last words Pitt said to me. ‘He has promised to do so.” PART II. THE weather was cold and wintry as we began our railway journey. From two to three years have gone on, you must please note, since the time told of above. Mr. Brandon was about to spend the Christmas with his sister, Lady Bevere—who had quitted Hampshire and settled not far from Brighton—and she had sent mean invitation to accompany him. 3 We took the train at Evesham. It was Friday, and the shortest day in the year; St. Thomas, the twenty-first of December. Some people do not care to begin a journey on a Friday, thinking it bodes ill-luck : I might have thought the same had I foreseen what was to happen before we got home again. London reached, we met Roger Bevere at the Brighton station, as agreed upon. He was to travel down with us. I had not seen him since the time of his illness in London, except for an hour once when I was in town upon some business for the Squire. Nothing had transpired to his friends, so far as I knew, of the fatal step he had taken; that was a secret still. I cannot say I much liked Roger’s appearance now, as he sat Opposite me in the railway carriage, leaning against the arm of the comfortably-cushioned seat. His fair, pleasant face was gentle as ever, but the once clear blue eyes no longer looked very clear and did not meet ours freely ; his hands shook, his fingers were restless. Mr. Brandon did not much like the signs either, to judge by the way he stared at him. ‘“* Have you been well lately, Roger?” “Oh yes, thank you, Uncle John.” Well, your looks don’t say much for you.” ‘‘T am rather hard-worked,” said Roger. ‘London is not a place to grow rosy in.” “Do you like your new work?” continued Mr. Brandon. For Roger had done with St. Bartholomew’s Hospital, and was out-door assistant to a surgeon in private practice, a Mr. Anderson, “‘T like it better than the hospital work, Uncle John.” “Ah! A fine idea that was of yours—wanting to set-up in GEomicbooks.co nm