Thank you, Penelope." She
looked round at me. "Thank you, Mr. Betteredge."
There was no moving her--there was nothing more to be said. I signed
to Penelope to come away with me. We left her, as we had found her,
sweeping the corridor, like a woman in a dream.
"This is a matter for the doctor to look into," I said. "It's beyond
me."
My daughter reminded me of Mr. Candy's illness, owing (as you may
remember) to the chill he had caught on the night of the dinner-party.
His assistant--a certain Mr. Ezra Jennings--was at our disposal, to be
sure. But nobody knew much about him in our parts. He had been engaged
by Mr. Candy under rather peculiar circumstances; and, right or wrong,
we none of us liked him or trusted him. There were other doctors at
Frizinghall. But they were strangers to our house; and Penelope doubted,
in Rosanna's present state, whether strangers might not do her more harm
than good.
I thought of speaking to my lady. But, remembering the heavy weight of
anxiety which she already had on her mind, I hesitated to add to all the
other vexations this new trouble. Still, there was a necessity for doing
something. The girl's state was, to my thinking, downright alarming--and
my mistress ought to be informed of it.
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