I thought that such
relentless application must be injurious, and tried to cajole him from
the crabbed text-books; but his ardor seemed to grow rather than
diminish, and his daily tale of hours increased. I spoke to him
seriously, suggesting some occasional relaxation, if it were but an idle
afternoon with a harmless novel; but he laughed, and said that he read
about feudal tenures when he felt in need of amusement, and scoffed at
the notion of theatres, or a month's fresh confessed that he looked
well, and seemed not to suffer from his labors; but I knew that such
unnatural toil would take revenge at last, and I was not mistaken. A
look of anxiety began to lurk about his eyes, and he seemed languid, and
at last he avowed that he was no longer in perfect health; he was
troubled, he said, with a sensation of dizziness, and awoke now and then
of nights from fearful dreams, terrified and cold with icy sweats. "I am
taking care of myself," he said; "so you must not trouble. I passed the
whole of yesterday afternoon in idleness, leaning back in that
comfortable chair you gave me, and scribbling nonsense on a sheet of
paper. No, no; I will not overdo my work. I shall be well enough in a
week or two, depend upon it." Yet, in spite of his assurances, I could see that he grew no better, but
rather worse; he would enter the drawing-room with a face all miserably
wrinkled and despondent, and endeavor to look gayly when my eyes fell on
him, and I thought such symptoms of evil omen, and was frightened
sometimes at the nervous irritation of his movements, and at glances
which I could not decipher. Much against his will, I prevailed on him to
have medical advice, and with an ill grace he called in our old doctor. Dr. Haberden cheered me after his examination of his patient. "There is nothing really much amiss," he said to me. "No doubt he reads
too hard, and eats hastily, and then goes back again to his books in too
great a hurry; and the natural consequence is some digestive trouble,
and a little mischief in the nervous system. But I think--I do, indeed,
Miss Leicester--that we shall be able to set this all right. I have
written him a prescription which ought to do great things. So you have
no cause for anxiety." My brother insisted on having the prescription made up by a chemist in
the neighborhood; it was an odd old-fashioned shop, devoid of the
studied coquetry and calculated glitter that make so gay a show on the
counters and shelves of the modern apothecary; but Francis liked the old
chemist, and believed in the scrupulous purity of his drugs. The
medicine was sent in due course, and I saw that my brother took it
regularly after lunch and dinner. It was an innocent-looking white
powder, of which a little was dissolved, in a glass of cold water. I
stirred it in, and it seemed to disappear, leaving the water clear and
colorless. At first Francis seemed to benefit greatly; the weariness
vanished from his face, and he became more cheerful than he had ever
been since the time when he left school; he talked gayly of reforming
himself, and avowed to me that he had wasted his time. "I have given too many hours to law," he said, laughing; "I think you
have saved me in the nick of time. Come, I shall be Lord Chancellor yet,
but I must not forget life. You and I will have a holiday together
before long; we will go to Paris and enjoy ourselves, and keep away from
the Bibliothèque Nationale." I confessed myself delighted with the prospect. "When shall we go?" I said. "I can start the day after to-morrow, if you
like." "Ah, that is perhaps a little too soon; after all, I do not know London
yet, and I suppose a man ought to give the pleasures of his own country
the first choice. But we will go off together in a week or two, so try
and furbish up your French. I only know law French myself, and I am
afraid that wouldn't do." We were just finishing dinner, and he quaffed off his medicine with a
parade of carousal as if it had been wine from some choicest bin. "Has it any particular taste?" I said. "No; I should not know I was not drinking water," and he got up from his
chair, and began to pace up and down the room as if he were undecided as
to what he should do next. "Shall we have coffee in the drawing-room," I said, "or would you like
to smoke?" "No; I think I will take a turn, it seems a pleasant evening. Look at
the afterglow; why, it is as if a great city were burning in flames, and
down there between the dark houses it is raining blood fast, fast. Yes,
I will go out. I may be in soon, but I shall take my key, so good-night,
dear, if I don't see you again." The door slammed behind him, and I saw him walk lightly down the street,
swinging his malacca cane, and I felt grateful to Dr. Haberden for such
an improvement. I believe my brother came home very late that night; but he was in a
merry mood the next morning. "I walked on without thinking where I was going," he said, "enjoying the
freshness of the air, and livened by the crowds as I reached more
frequented quarters. And then I met an old college friend, Orford, in
the press of the pavement, and then--well, we enjoyed ourselves. I have
felt what it is to be young and a man, I find I have blood in my veins,
as other men have. I made an appointment with Orford for to-night; there
will be a little party of us at the restaurant. Yes, I shall enjoy
myself for a week or two, and hear the chimes at midnight, and then we
will go for our little trip together." Such was the transmutation of my brother's character that in a few days
he became a lover of pleasure, a careless and merry idler of western
pavements, a hunter out of snug restaurants, and a fine critic of
fantastic dancing; he grew fat before my eyes, and said no more of
Paris, for he had clearly found his Paradise in London. I rejoiced, and
yet wondered a little, for there was, I thought, something in his gayety
that indefinitely displeased me, though I could not have defined my
feeling. But by degrees there came a change; he returned still in the
cold, hours of the morning, but I heard no more about his pleasures, and
one morning as we sat at breakfast together, I looked suddenly into his
eyes and saw a stranger before me. "Oh, Francis!" I cried; "Oh, Francis, Francis, what have you done?" and
rending sobs cut the words short, and I went weeping out of the room,
for though I knew nothing, yet I knew all, and by some odd play of
thought I remembered the evening when he first went abroad to prove his
manhood, and the picture of the sunset sky glowed before me; the clouds
like a city in burning flames, and the rain of blood. Yet I did battle
with such thoughts, resolving that perhaps, after all, no great harm
had been done, and in the evening at dinner I resolved to press him to
fix a day for our holiday in Paris. We had talked easily enough, and my
brother had just taken his medicine, which he had continued all the
while.