And as he
entered it, "his heart sank to his midriff, and his knees below were
loosed." For there, making up pills, in a pair of brown holland
sleeves of his own manufacture (for Tom was a good seamster, as all
travellers should be), whistled Lilliburlero, as of old, the Tom of
other days, which Elsley's muse would fain have buried in a thousand
Lethes.
Elsley came forward to the counter carelessly, nevertheless, after a
moment. "What with my beard, and the lapse of time," thought he, "he
cannot know me." So he spoke,--
"I understand you have been visiting my children, sir. I hope you did
not find them seriously indisposed?"
"Mr. Vavasour?" says Tom, with a low bow.
"I am Mr. Vavasour!" But Elsley was a bad actor, and hesitated and
coloured so much as he spoke, that if Tom had known nothing, he might
have guessed something.
"Nothing serious, I assure you, sir: unless you are come to announce
any fresh symptom."
"Oh, no--not at all--that is--I was passing on my way to the quay, and
thought it as well to have your own assurance; Mrs. Vavasour is so
over-anxious."
"You seem to partake of her infirmity, sir," says Tom, with a smile
and a bow. "However, it is one which does you both honour."
An awkward pause.
"I hope I am not taking a liberty, sir; but I think I am bound to--"
"What in heaven is he going to say?" thought Elsley to himself,
feeling very much inclined to run away.
"Thank you for all the pleasure and instruction which your writings
have given me in lonely hours, and lonely places too.
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