Courtship -- Fiction; England -- Social life and customs -- 20th century -- Fiction; Families -- Fiction; Widows -- Fiction
Had things ended there, Dr. Humphrey Craig would not have returned home
unexpectedly on the present occasion. But he had heard whispers and
caught glimpses--he saw a gossip nudge her neighbour and look up a
bye-street; and looking himself, recognised two figures whose backs were
turned. Not a word said he; but he watched young Andrews narrowly that
evening, and the next, and on the third day he spoke.
He spoke, and the bubble burst.
Ignorant of any cause for the non-delivery of her prescribed tonic which
she had arranged to receive herself at one of the park lodges--since
General Boldero was not to be annoyed by the suspicion of ill-health,
and would infallibly make a fuss if medicines were handed in at the
front door--Leonore, after waiting some time in vain, returned home and
said nothing about the matter;--but she started a little when she heard
a voice in the doorway a few hours later, and found that it proceeded
from Dr. Humphrey Craig.
He had not yet rung the bell; and took the liberty of a privileged old
friend to hail her instead of doing so.
"Mrs. Stubbs? It was you I wanted to see. If no one's about, I'll step
inside for a minute. Eh? It's all right, is it? I've something here for
you; but I might have a word first, perhaps?"
She drew him into an empty room.
"This is not a professional visit," nodded he; "you haven't called me
in, and there will be no note of it in my tablets,--but I understand
from my young man that you are feeling a wee bit run down,--don't be
frightened, we'll soon put you to rights--and I thought I'd look in.
How's the appetite?"
Presently it was the sleep--then the spirits, the walking powers;--she
was completely put through her facings, her tongue looked at, her pulse
felt,--and at length the doctor sat back in his chair. "I have known you
from a child, Miss Leonore, ahem--Mrs. Stubbs. Your family has honoured
me with its friendship for fifteen years now, and as a friend," with
emphasis, "I'm going to lay down the law on this matter. If you'd prefer
me to speak to Miss Sue, I will."
"Oh, no--no."
"I thought not," said the doctor, smiling a little grimly. "But if it
should become necessary, I shall do it all the same. You must get away
from this place. Your father must be made to let you go. Only for a bit,
of course,--but that bit I do insist upon. You've been shut up here,
fretting, and brooding, for a matter of nearly two years----"
"Indeed, indeed I am quite well."
"You tell Tommy Andrews you're not. Trust me, my dear young lady, you
wouldn't have told Tommy anything if you had been. It was, ahem--a
foolish thing to do, to consult a raw young apprentice."
"I--I didn't like to trouble you."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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