But Mr. Tredgold did not go, and then it began to be understood that he never meant nor expected to go, and that this was the reason why he did not disturb himself about Stella. The spectators were half satisfied, yet half aggrieved, by this conclusion, and felt, as he got slowly better, that they had been cheated out of their play; however, he was an old man, and the doctor shook his head over all the triumphant accounts of his recovery which were made in the local papers; and there was yet hope of a tragedy preceded by a reconciliation, and the restoration of Stella to all her rights. Dr. Burnet was, throughout the whole illness, beyond praise. He was at the Cliff at every available moment, watching every symptom. Not a day elapsed that he did not see Katherine two or three times to console her about her father, or to explain anything new that had occurred. They were together so much that some people said they looked as if they had been not only lovers but married for years, so complete seemed their confidence in each other and the way they understood each other. A glance at Dr. Burnet’s face was enough for Katherine. She knew what it meant without another word; while he divined her anxiety, her apprehensions, her depression, as the long days went on without any need of explanation. “As soon as the old man is well enough there will, of course, be a marriage,” it was generally said. “And, of course, the doctor will go and live there,” said Mrs. Shanks, “such a comfort to have the doctor always on the spot--and what a happy thing for poor Mr. Tredgold that it should be his son-in-law--a member of his family.” “Mr. Tredgold will never have a son-in-law in his house,” said Miss Mildmay, “if Katherine is expecting that she is reckoning without her father. I don’t believe _that_ will ever be a marriage whatever you may say. What! send off Sir Charles Somers, a man with something at least to show for himself, and take in Dr. Burnet? I think, Jane Shanks, that you must be off your head!” “Sir Charles Somers could never have been of any use to poor, dear Mr. Tredgold,” said Mrs. Shanks, a little abashed, “and Dr. Burnet is. What a difference that makes!” “It may make a difference--but it will not make that difference; and I shouldn’t like myself to be attended by my son-in-law,” said the other lady. “He might give you a little pinch of something at a critical moment; or he might change your medicine; or he might take away a pillow--you can’t tell the things that a doctor might do--which could never be taken hold of, and yet----” “Ruth Mildmay!” cried Mrs. Shanks, “for shame of yourself, do you think Dr. Burnet would murder the man?” “No; I don’t think he would murder the man,” said Miss Mildmay decidedly, but there was an inscrutable look in her face, “there are many ways of doing a thing,” she said, nodding her head to herself.