"You may rely on me," I said. "I have the greatest respect and admiration for Miss Derwent, and would be most unwilling to say anything which might lay her open to misconstruction." "Thank you. Now, Doctor, you know exactly what occurred. You are consequently better able than any one else to judge whether what she has been through is in itself enough to account for her present illness." "She is still very nervous?" "Incredibly so. She cannot bear to be left alone a minute." "And you know of no reason for this nervousness other than her experience at the Rosemere?" "None." "May I ask how the news of the butler's attack on me affected her?" How sweet to think that she had cared at all! "Very strangely," replied Mrs. Derwent. "After reading the account of it she fainted, and it was quite an hour before she recovered consciousness. Since then she has expressed the greatest desire to go to New York, but will give no reason for this absurd whim. Mr. Norman was also much upset by the thought of the danger you had incurred." "Mr. Norman! But I don't know him!" "So he told me. To be able to feel so keenly for a stranger shows an extraordinary sensibility, does it not?" She looked at me keenly. "It does, indeed! It is most inexplicable!" "I don't know whether Fred has told you that since my daughter was taken ill on Sunday she cannot bear to have Mr. Norman out of her sight. He has been here all day, and now she insists on his leaving the Cowpers and staying with us altogether. Her behaviour is incomprehensible." This was pleasant news for me! "Surely this desire for his society can mean but one thing?" "Of course, you think that she must care for him, but I am quite sure that she does not." "Really?" I could hardly keep the note of pleasure out of my voice. "If she were in love with him I should consider her conduct quite normal. But it is the fact of her indifference that makes it so very curious." "You are sure this indifference is real and not assumed?" "Quite sure," replied Mrs. Derwent. "She tries to hide it, but I can see that his attentions are most unwelcome to her. If he happens, in handing her something, to touch her accidentally, she visibly shrinks from him. Oh, Mr. Norman has noticed this as well as I have, and it hurts him." "And yet she cannot bear him out of her sight, you say?" "Exactly. As long as he is within call she is quiet and contented, and in his absence she fidgets. And yet she does not care to talk to him, and does so with an effort that is perfectly apparent to me. The poor fellow is pathetically in love, and I can see that he suffers keenly from her indifference." "I suppose he expects his patient devotion to win the day in the end."