“Good! Come.”
They walked to the carriage, and Simon, displacing the footman, got up beside the coachman. He was careful, however, to be set down before they got within sight of the post-office.
The message he sent was—
“I know all, and will write. Say nothing but to your mother.”
CHAPTER LII. UNCLE-FATHER AND AUNT-MOTHER.
When Richard reached London, he went straight to Clerkenwell. There he found Arthur, in bed and unattended, but covered up warm. Except one number of The Family Herald, he had nothing to read. The room was tidy, but very dreary. Richard asked him why he did not move into the front room. Arthur did not explain, but Richard understood that the mother had left so many phantasms behind her that he preferred his own dark chamber. When Richard told him what he had done and the success he had had, he thanked him with such a shining face that Richard saw in it the birth of saving hope.
“And now, Arthur,” he said, “you must get better as fast as you can; and the first minute you are able to be moved, we'll ship you off to my grandfather's, where Alice was.”
“Away from Alice?”
“Yes; but you must remember there will be so much more for her to eat, and so much more money to get things comfortable with by the time you come back. Besides, you will grow well faster, and then perhaps we shall find some fitter work for you than that hideous clerking!”