
here, and not very creditable to myself. However opinions may differ on a
variety of subjects, I should think it would be universally agreed, Sir
Leicester, that I am not much to boast of.«
    »You have been a soldier,« observes Sir Leicester, »and a faithful one.«
    George makes his military bow. »As far as that goes, Sir Leicester, I have
done my duty under discipline, and it was the least I could do.«
    »You find me,« says Sir Leicester, whose eyes are much attracted towards
him, »far from well, George Rouncewell.«
    »I am very sorry both to hear it and to see it, Sir Leicester.«
    »I am sure you are. No. In addition to my older malady, I have had a sudden
and bad attack. Something that deadens -« making an endeavour to pass one hand
down one side; »and confuses -« touching his lips.
    George, with a look of assent and sympathy, makes another bow. The different
times when they were both young men (the trooper much the younger of the two),
and looked at one another down at Chesney Wold, arise before them both, and
soften both.
    Sir Leicester, evidently with a great determination to say, in his own
manner, something that is on his mind before relapsing into silence, tries to
raise himself among his pillows a little more. George, observant of the action,
takes him in his arms again and places him as he desires to be. »Thank you,
George. You are another self to me. You have often carried my spare gun at
Chesney Wold, George. You are familiar to me in these strange circumstances,
very familiar.« He has put Sir Leicester's sounder arm over his shoulder in
lifting him up, and Sir Leicester is slow in drawing it away again, as he says
these words.
    »I was about to add,« he presently goes on, »I was about to add, respecting
this attack, that it was unfortunately simultaneous with a slight
misunderstanding between my Lady and myself. I do not mean that there was any
difference between us (for there has been none), but that there was a
misunderstanding of certain circumstances important only to ourselves, which
deprives me, for a little while, of my Lady's society. She has found it
necessary to make a journey, - I trust will shortly return. Volumnia, do I make
myself intelligible? The words are not quite under my command, in the
