"I can't make him out, my lady!" said Simmons. "It is nothing very
bad, I think, this time; but he gets worse and worse--always taking
more and more o' them horrid drugs. It's no use trying to hide it:
he'll drop off sudden one o' these days! I've heard say laudanum
don't shorten life; but it's not one nor two, nor half a dozen sorts
o' laudanums he keeps mixing in that poor inside o' his! The end
must come, and what will it be? It's better you should be prepared
for it when it do come, my lady. I've just been a giving of him some
into his skin--with a little sharp-pointed thing, a syringe, you
know, my lady: he says it's the only way to take some medicines.
He's just a slave to his medicines, my lady!"
As soon as he was gone, Arctura returned to Donal. He had knocked
the plaster away, and uncovered a slab, very like one of the great
stones on some of the roofs. The next thing was to prize it from the
mortar, and that was not difficult. The instant he drew the stone
away, a dank chill assailed them, accompanied by a humid smell, as
from a long-closed cellar. They stood and looked, now at each other,
now at the opening in the wall, where was nothing but darkness. The
room grew cold and colder. Donal was anxious as to how Arctura might
stand what discovery lay before them, and she was anxious to read
his sensations. For her sake he tried to hide all expression of the
awe that was creeping over him, and it gave him enough to do.
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