his comrades; and shout at me, a thing I can't bear; and you kindly
think to spare me--and Peter. But I can't take the responsibility
of keeping it dark, for all that," said the canon, shaking his head
regretfully.

"_I_ take the responsibility," said the doctor, shortly. "As Sir
Timothy's physician, I forbid you to tell him."

"Is Sir Timothy ill?" The canon's light eyes grew rounder with alarm.

"He is to undergo a dangerous operation to-morrow morning."

"God bless my soul!"

"He desires this evening--possibly his last on earth--to be a calm and
unclouded one," said the doctor. "Respect his wishes, Birch, as you
would respect the wishes of a dying man."

"Do you mean he won't get over it?" said the canon, in a horrified
whisper.

"You always want the _t's_ crossed and the _i's_ dotted," said
Blundell, impatiently. "Of course there is a chance--his only chance.
He's a d----d plucky old fellow. I never thought to like Sir Timothy
half so well as I do at this moment."

"I hope I don't _dislike_ any man," faltered the canon. "But--"

"Exactly," said the doctor, dryly.