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Updated: October 9, 2025
We must take great care of you now greater than ever," and he sighed pathetically. Roger was getting accustomed to, and a little tired of, these demonstrative outbursts, and quietly took the seat in order to spare discussion. He was already repenting of his journey. No one seemed to commend it. Armstrong made no reference to it. Dr Brandram stoutly disapproved of it.
The first they opened was from the Duke of Somewhere, who gravely "accepted with pleasure Mr and Miss Oliphant's polite invitation." Several of the others were acceptances one or two refusals. "Five scratched already," said Tom. "That'll make it all right for the herrings." In the afternoon Dr Brandram called. He carried his invitation card in his hand. "What game are you at now?" he demanded.
Besides these intimates there was Mr Headland, feeling like a father to everybody; Dr Brandram, in professional attendance; and the Vicar himself, accidentally present to congratulate his young parishioner on his recovery. The absentee of the evening was Mr Armstrong, who had gone to London the previous day on matters connected with the approaching assizes. "I wish Armstrong was here," said Tom.
Everything is changed at Maxfield since I was there. Even the old hands like Dr Brandram or Hodder would not recognise me after all these years. In fact, they have seen me and have not done so. They think I'm dead.
"Oh! why, hullo, Armstrong! what's the matter?" "I'm sorry to disturb you, Roger, but " The boy bounded out of bed and stood facing his tutor in his night- dress. "But I want you to dress as sharp as you can. Your father is unwell." "Unwell?" repeated the boy, shivering. "You do not mean he is dead?" "No no; but ill. He has had a stroke. Dr Brandram is with him.
As he sat down, flushed with his effort, and wondering what two persons there would think of his feeble performance, his eye fell on the form of Dr Brandram, who at that moment hurriedly entered the room. He saw him whisper something to Armstrong, who changed colour and rose from his seat.
"Ah, my little lady, is that you?" said Ratman advancing. But his passage was intercepted by the doctor. "Gently, my friend," said he. "Now that you have relieved yourself of your pretty story, let me suggest that the easiest way out of this house is by the door." "Who are you, sir?" blustered Ratman. Dr Brandram laughed. "I must have changed in twenty years as much as you," said he.
Brandram, the secretary, and his bold and unexpected ways gave the Society something to put up with, but he was always a faithful and enthusiastic servant. He had many reasons for being grateful to them. He, who was going to get himself imprisoned for atheism, had already become, as Mr.
Whatever his mother may have seen, there appears to have been no thought of marriage in Borrow's mind when, on 29th September 1839, he wrote to Mr Brandram telling him of his wish to visit "China or particular parts of Africa." Borrow paid many tributes to his wife, not only in his letters, but in print, every one of which she seems thoroughly to have merited.
He disliked secrets extremely, especially when he happened to be the custodian of them; and painful as the discovery of this one might be to his ward, it might be best that he should know it now, instead of hovering indefinitely in profitless mystery. It was, therefore, with some sense of relief that, half-way home, he perceived Dr Brandram in the road ahead.
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