"Yes, they are having a cleansing and purification. The family went away
this morning."
"Went where?" exclaimed Hartledon, in amazement.
"Dr. Ashton has taken a cottage near Ventnor."
"Had Mrs. Ashton quite recovered?"
"Quite: or they would not have gone. The Rectory has had a clean bill of
health for some time past."
"Then why did they not let me know it?" exclaimed Val, in his
astonishment and anger.
"Perhaps you didn't ask," said the surgeon. "But no visitors were sought.
Time enough for that when the house shall have been fumigated."
"They might have sent to me," he cried, in resentment. "To go away and
never let me know it!"
"They may have thought you were too agreeably engaged to care to be
disturbed," remarked the surgeon.
"What do you mean?" demanded Val, hotly.
Mr. Hillary laughed. "People will talk, you know; and rumour has it that
Lord Hartledon has found attractions in his own home, whilst the Rectory
was debarred to him."
Val wheeled round on his heel, and walked away in displeasure. Home
truths are never palatable. But the kindly disposition of the man resumed
its sway immediately: he turned back, and pointed to the shed.
"Is that interesting patient of yours on his legs again?"
"He is getting better. The disease attacked him fiercely and was
unusually prolonged. It's strange he should have been the only one to
take it.
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