Part 17 (1/2)

”On the contrary,” I said, with great distinctness, turning toward him again, ”on the contrary, I never felt quieter or less feverish in my life. I am quite well, except a little weakness, which will be remedied by allowing me suitable and nouris.h.i.+ng food; and Mrs. Arnold is only waiting for your permission to get me some broiled chicken and roast oysters, which I have no doubt you are perfectly willing to allow.”

The doctor looked astonished at this emphatic declaration and proposition, and for a s.p.a.ce seemed inclined to resist such unheard of demands; but seeing, no doubt, the hopelessness of bringing me to reason, and the fear of alienating irretrievably so important a patient as the guest at the great house, he thought it best to yield as graciously as possible. The idea of losing the chance of the Rutledge patronage was not to be entertained for a moment, and it is my opinion that, with a view to averting such a blow to his success, he would have conceded me an unlimited grant of lobster-salad and turtle soup, if I had been pleased to fancy those viands. As it was, however, I bore my triumph very unexcitedly, merely giving Mrs. Arnold a significant look, which indicated as much hungry complacency as was consistent with my dignity; upon which she proposed descending to prepare my meal, and Kitty entering just then, she considered herself no longer necessary, and withdrew for that purpose. The doctor being engaged in writing a prescription, I had nothing to distract my attention from Kitty, who overwhelmed me with congratulations upon my improved condition; which congratulations, however, I could not with sincerity return, for having, in her eagerness, run every step of the way to Rutledge and back, her condition was best described by the inelegant term, ”blown.”

”But oh, Miss,” she exclaimed, in panting incoherency, ”it is so nice to see you opening your eyes and taking notice! Mr. Rutledge will be so glad!”

”How is he, and why didn't he come?” I asked.

”Well,” said Kitty, candidly, ”I wasn't to tell you, but _I_ don't see the harm. Mr. Rutledge's arm has been bad again, and he can't go out of the house. But here's a note for you from him.”

And Kitty pulled from her ap.r.o.n-pocket a note, that I seized eagerly.

And forgetting doctor and maid, with flushed cheeks and parted lips, I read and reread the brief note--very brief, but very characteristic--kind, almost tender--concise, pithy, and vigorous, with just a dash of humor and raillery at the close, and ”Always your friend, Arthur Rutledge.”

With a pleased smile, my eyes lingered over the words, till raising them inadvertently, they encountered the doctor's, fixed searchingly on my face. He averted them in an instant, however, but not before he had caught a sight of the quick blush that mounted to my temples.

”I was thinking,” he said, apologetically, ”I was thinking that the light was rather strong for your eyes. Shall not the young woman darken the window a little?”

I rejected the proposal contemptuously, and the medical gentleman, after an abortive attempt at a compliment, and a bow that was a shade less complacent than usual, took his leave.

”I hate that man!” I exclaimed, as the door closed behind him. ”I never shall learn to treat him civilly.”

Kitty shrugged her shoulders.

”The people in the village think there's n.o.body like him. He's got a very taking way with all the common folks, putting his arm around the women's waists, and patting the men on the shoulder, and talking to everybody alike. But I don't like the look of him, for all his fair-and-softly ways. And he's been watching you, Miss, for the last five minutes, as a cat watches a mouse.”

I bit my lip, but merely said:

”No matter, Kitty; he may be a good doctor for all that, and he will not have a chance to watch me much longer, I hope. You may darken the window; I believe he was right about that matter, and I'll try to sleep a little till my breakfast, or whatever it is, comes up. In the meantime, perhaps you had better go and see if you cannot help Mrs.

Arnold.”

Kitty obeyed, and in a few minutes I was left alone, but unluckily with no very pleasant thoughts to keep me company, and no overtures from tired nature's sweet restorer either, to put them to flight. I was very much irritated at the doctor's manner, and a good deal annoyed at having expressed my irritation so warmly to Kitty; and compunctious visitings also troubled me about my self-will on the subject of the broiled chicken and oysters, to which was added a confused sort of penitential alarm about the purloined riding-skirt, and to crown all, a startling discovery, that made me absolutely weak with fright.

The miniature, which for some time past had been vacillating between my pocket and my trunk, as its safety demanded, had, on the afternoon of my ride, being lying on the table before me, while I was dressing, but on an alarm of Mrs. Roberts' approach, I had thrown the ribbon around my neck, and hid it in my bosom, whence, in my hurry and excitement, I had forgotten to take it, and it had remained there during my ride, for I remembered feeling it, with no pleasant a.s.sociation at the time either, while I was waiting for Michael on the common. This I distinctly remembered, and--now it was gone. That was all I knew; that was enough to make me sick with fright. I covered up my face, and lay quiet, but very miserable. What would I not have given if I had never touched that miniature, or worn that skirt. The business of deceit was new to me, and in proportion it looked black. I had almost fretted myself into a fever, when Mrs. Arnold reappeared with my _gote_, most temptingly arranged upon the cleanest of china and whitest of napkins. She placed it by me, and announced that it was ready.

I looked up in her face, my own rather flushed, no doubt, and said:

”You see he let me have it, Mrs. Arnold.”

”I see he did, Miss,” she answered, quite gravely.

”I knew he would; I was right after all.”

”I hope so, Miss.”

Her grave looks troubled me. I did not take the knife and fork she offered me, but looking at her earnestly, I said, abruptly:

”Mrs. Arnold, honestly, do you think that's bad for me?”

She looked somewhat startled by my question, but answered quietly:

”Honestly, Miss, I think it is a risk; but the doctor has consented, and I have nothing to say.”

”Very well,” I said, pus.h.i.+ng the table back, ”I am sorry to have given you so much trouble for nothing. Will you warm that gruel for me.”