Gothic fiction; Guardian and ward -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Orphans -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
Surprise and pleasure brightened my face, and I had some saucy words on
my lips, when the door softly opened, and _the doctor_ stood
hesitatingly on the threshold, apologizing for his abrupt return and
entrance, on the ground of having forgotten to impress upon the young
lady the importance of continuing the powders she had been taking. He
had not thought of this neglect of his till he had actually got into his
buggy at the door, and then remembered it "on a sudden," and was so much
alarmed at thinking what the consequences might be, that he had sprung
out, and hurried in to give a parting charge on the subject. Every three
hours, he reiterated, and then apologized again to Mr. Rutledge for the
interruption.
Mr. Rutledge received his apologies rather stiffly, and begged him to be
easy on the matter of the powders; he had no doubt the young lady would
follow his advice implicitly, and he trusted the result would be as
gratifying as Dr. Hugh himself could wish. And the gentlemen both bowed,
and Mr. Rutledge accompanied his guest to the door with undiminished
politeness, but with a slight contraction of the brow, that augured ill
for the doctor's cause.
There was much expression in the doctor's parting salutation to me; his
glance had been rapid, but he had not omitted, in his observation, the
total change of attitude, expression and voice, that had ensued upon his
withdrawing from the two people who had been so _distraits_ and
undemonstrative all the evening; it was a significant fact, and he had
not been slow to seize upon it. And I liked him less than ever after he
left us for the second time that evening.
"Mr. Rutledge," I said, when he had returned from convoying the doctor
to the door, "did you notice what a disagreeable impression Dr. Hugh
seemed to make upon Tigre? He keeps at a little distance from him, and
barks in the short, snappish way that he always does when the
tortoise-shell cat prowls into the barn."
Mr. Rutledge smiled at the analogy I seemed to trace.
"I don't altogether fancy the man myself, but one must not be too
readily influenced by fancies; no doubt he's very good in his way, and
seems to be much more of a physician than old Sartain. It's a bad way to
expect too much of people, and I hope you'll never get as much in the
habit of it as I have always been."
With that he dismissed the subject, and presently pointing to the seat
beside him, told me I need not think of saying good night yet, as he had
a great deal to say to me. Without much reluctance, I sat down, and
listened submissively.
"In the first place, you have not asked what your aunt says to this new
delay."
"Well, what does she say?" I asked, a little uneasily.
"She says, that unless you arrive very shortly at New York, she shall
feel herself obliged to leave all her pressing household cares, sick
children, undisciplined servants, and come on for you in person."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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