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Updated: September 20, 2025
If it had depended on him, Oxbye would be alive still." "He was a consenting party. Well; for the moment both of you keep perfect silence. Don't discuss the timing with each other lest you should be overheard: bury the thing. I am going to make some inquiries." The first thing was to find out what steps had been taken, if any, with insurance companies.
On the rare occasions when he was in a state of repose, he always appeared to have taken refuge in his wife's room; Fanny's keyhole-observation discovered him, thinking miserably, seated in his wife's chair. It seemed to be possible that he was fretting after Lady Harry. But what did his conduct to Mr. Oxbye mean?
There seemed to be no fear of tempting her mistress to undervalue the danger of returning to the cottage, if she mentioned the cheering improvement now visible in Mr. Oxbye. And yet Fanny still hesitated to trust her first impressions, even after they had been confirmed. Her own sad experience reminded her of the fatal influence which an unscrupulous man can exercise over the woman who loves him.
Tempted by the prospect of a change, which offered to him a bed-chamber of his own in the house of a person of distinction with a garden to walk about in, and flowers to gladden his eyes, when he got better Oxbye eagerly adopted the alternative of leaving the hospital. "Pray let me go," the poor fellow said: "I am sure I shall be the better for it."
"There," he said, "everything else has been of no use to us the presence of the sick man the suspicions of the nurse his death even his death has been of no use to us. We might have been spared the memory the awful memory of this death!" "You forget, my English friend, that a dead body was necessary for us. We had to bury somebody. Why not the man Oxbye?" OF course Mrs. Vimpany was quite right.
Oxbye shook his head as a man who has taken something nauseous. "I don't like it at all," he said. "It doesn't taste like the other physic." "No I have been changing it improving it." The Dane shook his head again. "There's a pain in my throat," he said; "it stings it burns!" "Patience patience. It will pass away directly, and you will lie down again and fall asleep comfortably."
What did he do that for?" "I tell you: for the sake of his friends." Fanny was more bewildered than ever. Why on earth should the doctor want a photograph of the Dane Oxbye to show the friends of Lord Harry? Could he have made a blunder as stupid as it was uncalled for? No one could possibly mistake the dead face of that poor Dane for the dead face of Lord Harry.
Oxbye, how do you find yourself to-day?" Sometimes the answer would be: "Gracious lord, I am suffering pain." Sometimes it was: "Dear and admirable patron, I feel as if I might get well again." On either occasion, Lord Harry listened without looking at Mr. Oxbye said he was sorry to hear a bad account or glad to hear a good account, without looking at Mr.
Oxbye sank back upon the sofa. His eyes closed. Then he opened them again, looking about him strangely, as one who is suffering some new experience. Again he shook his head, again he closed his eyes, and he opened them no more. He was asleep. The doctor stood at his head watching gravely. Lord Harry, in his chair, leaned forward, also watching, but with white face and trembling hands.
By these symptoms by those symptoms," he repeated slowly and looking hard at the other man, "I know that this man no longer Oxbye, my patient, but another is in a highly dangerous condition. I have noted the symptoms in my book" he tapped his pocket "for future use." "And when when " Lord Harry was frightfully pale. His lips moved, but he could not finish the sentence.
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