The flowers were
gone, and the corn, and even the greenness of the grass, which now was of
a pale yellowish-olive hue; and I thought that a nakeder, more
inhospitable looking spot surely man had never visited.
Under such circumstances we talked little; the doctor only making a
remark now and then in a dutiful way, and Mr. Hobhouse effusively
agreeing with him. That gentleman was quite content to postpone his
enquiries until he had got a little warmer and drier, and at times he
even felt acute anxiety lest the bleak house that loomed ahead, visible
afar over the treeless country, was actually moving away from them. They
seemed to approach it so slowly.
Evening was near at hand when Mr. Hobhouse entered his teetotal haven,
and his effusiveness was quite sincere as he rubbed his hands over a
blazing fire in the doctor's smoking room, and still sincerer when he
faced an excellent high tea.
The conversation naturally turned on the war, and Thomas Sylvester showed
an anxiety to learn his host's opinions and an enthusiastic agreement
with each one of them that seemed to please the doctor. He became more
and more talkative and genial, but though his guest mentally went through
his words with a tooth-comb as he uttered them, he had to confess at the
end of a chatty hour that the doctor exhibited neither any special
knowledge of military and naval affairs, nor any lack of zeal for the
cause of his country.
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