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Gradually, as they gazed, the pale blue flame, rising higher and higher, gathered force and volume, and the perfume as of violets became distinct on the air, like the savour of a purer life than this century wots of. Bit by bit, the wan blue light, flickering thicker and thicker, shaped itself into the form and features of a man, even the outward semblance of Bertram Ingledew.
Ingledew about his treatment of Miss Vane, and his remarks had caused the surgeon to send a simple tonic mixture instead of the soothing draughts which had formerly excited some surprise and even some indignation in the Rector's mind. He did not much believe in soothing draughts, as he soon elicited from Mr. Ingledew that they had been made up in conformity with Mrs.
Ingledew," he said in a persuasive voice, "your people, whoever they are, must at least acknowledge a creator of the universe." Bertram gazed at him fixedly. His eye was stern. "My people, sir," he said slowly, in very measured words, unaware that one must not argue with a clergyman, "acknowledge and investigate every reality they can find in the universe and admit no phantoms.
I bear the name, one may almost say by accident, because it was handed down to me by my grandfather Ingledew, who had Bertram blood, but was a vast deal a better man than any other member of the Bertram family." "I'll be seeing the duke on Wednesday," the General put in, with marked politeness, "and I'll ask him, if you like, about your grandfather's relationship.
So the Civil Servant asked with a condescending air, "Well, what's your difficulty? I'll see if peradventure I can help you out of it." For he reflected to himself in a flash that as Ingledew had apparently a good round sum in gold and notes in his pocket yesterday, he was not likely to come borrowing money this morning.
That is the wont of savages. Would it not be better, now Bertram Ingledew had fairly disappeared for ever from their sphere, to patch up a hollow truce for a time at least with Frida, and let all things be to the outer eye exactly as they had always been? The bewildering and brain-staggering occurrences of the last half-hour, indeed, had struck deep and far into his hard Scotch nature.
So much better in every way. Do you know, Mr. Ingledew," and she hesitated for a minute, "I can't bear to differ from you or blame you in anything, because you always appear to me so wise and good and kind-hearted and reasonable; but it often surprises me, and even hurts me, when you seem to talk of us all as if we were just so many savages.
Bertram Ingledew for his part was all sweet reasonableness. He raised one deprecating hand. "Now, before we come to open hostilities," he said in a gentle voice, with that unfailing smile of his, "let's talk the matter over like rational beings. Let's try to be logical.
Ingledew had sounded her and told her that she need not be alarmed and of course he was a very clever man. "Enid," said the Rector at last, after a long pause, and rather as if he was trying to make a sort of joke which, after all, was not amusing, "I am going to ask you what you will think a very foolish question. Have you an enemy in the house here, at Beechfield Hall?"
For a minute, Frida thought they were really going to fight, and drew back in horror to await the contest. But such a warlike notion never entered the man of peace's head. He took a step backward for a second and calmly surveyed his antagonist with a critical scrutiny. Sir Lionel was short and stout and puffy; Bertram Ingledew was tall and strong and well-knit and athletic.
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