She grew strong again, and was sitting on the slopes one afternoon with her embroidery, quiet, gentle, smiling, as if not a cloud of anger had ever distorted her fair features, when she saw Mr. Pym approach and enter the house. It suddenly occurred to her that she had so seen him once or twice lately, and had wondered, in a passing way, what he wanted. Certainly his visits were not to her now. "What can it be that he comes for?" she said aloud, pausing in her work, and gazing at the door through which Mr. Pym had disappeared. If the question was not addressed to air, it must have been meant for Benja, that young gentleman being the only person within sight and hearing. He was sitting astride on the arm of the bench at Mrs. St. John's elbow, absorbed in a new picture-book that Honour had bought him, and teasing Mrs. St. John's patience out with his demands that she should admire its marvels. "Mr. Pym comes for papa," said quick Benja. "For papa!" she repeated. "Nonsense, Benja! Papa's not ill. He's looking very thin, but I am sure he's not ill." "Mr. Pym comes for him, and he sends him physic," persisted Benja. "For I was in the room yesterday, mamma, and heard them talking." Mrs. St. John thought this rather singular. Presently she saw Mr. Pym and her husband come out and go strolling down the avenue together. The latter soon turned back. "Benja, go and tell papa that I want him." Mr. St. John caught up Benja when the boy met him, kissed him, fondly put him down again, and the two came on together; Benja leaping and holding his papa's hand. Mrs. St. John was watching with compressed lips. Even still she could not bear to see the love of her husband for Benja. It was very foolish of her, very wrong, and she knew herself that it was so: but, strive against it as she would, as she _did_, the feeling kept its mastery over her. "George, what is the matter with you?" she asked, as her husband sat down beside her, and Benja ran off with his pictures. "Why does Mr. Pym come?" "I think he comes partly because he likes the walk," was the answer, given with a smile. "I asked him for some tonics during the time he was attending you, and he constituted me a patient directly. It's the way with doctors." "Don't you feel well?" "I don't feel strong. It's nothing, I suppose. You need not look alarmed, Charlotte." Mrs. St. John was looking more surprised than alarmed She wondered her husband had concealed it, she said, half reproachfully. "My dear, there was no concealment in the case. I felt languid, and spoke to Pym: that was all. It was not worth mentioning." "You have no complaint, George?" "None whatever, that I know of." "And are in no pain?" "None." "Then it can't be anything serious," she said, reassured.