“No, thank you. I had not reckoned on the eggs, but the good people insisted upon my taking them; I went to see a patient.”
“A patient! Do you play the doctor?”
“I do a little of everything; but the patient in question is a dog, a dear, faithful creature, my poor ‘Veldher,’ who has broken his leg, and will suffer no one to touch him but myself. Another trouble I have brought on myself; and yet, if the others could be remedied as easily!” she said, with a profound sigh.
She became pale as death, her lips quivered, and, withdrawing her arm from mine, she stood still, covering her face with her hands as if she would force back the tears already rolling down her cheeks. I remained by her side, and after a pause I said, with gentle earnestness—
“Tell me what has happened, Francis; it will be a relief to you and ease your mind.”
“Yes,” she resumed, calmly, “I must confide my sufferings to some one, but not now. I will not spoil our morning walk by calling up such a frightful scene. I can myself scarcely understand how it is possible that I, who cannot bear to see dumb creatures suffer, have to reproach myself with the death of one of my fellow-men.”
“I beseech you to tell me all, trusting in me for my sincerest sympathy.”
“Not now,” she cried; “what good would it do? It would only embitter the few minutes we have to spend together.”
“May I help you with a word it seems to cost you trouble to pronounce? Is it not a certain unfortunate incident with regard to your coachman?”
“Just so, that’s it,” she replied, assuming her defiant and bitter tone. “If you wish to know more about it, ask the people at the farm—they know all the particulars.”