It lay among many others on his library table. If he had really doubted the girl’s power over his emotions, the eagerness with which he pounced upon it would have told him the truth.
Before he read it he locked the door. Another desperate symptom, had he been reflecting on his own case. But he was not. He had but one feeling, intense relief. He had been fearing he had offended her, and he had not done so.
He opened the envelope. The enclosed sheet of notepaper contained but a few words:
“I release you from your promise. Farewell.
“Mercedes.”
The date; her address; those few words. No more.
In his present frame of mind, it was a shock. At first he paced the room, his old habit when perturbed. Then after gloomy self-chidings, during which he thought of himself as an inhuman bear who had trampled on the generous nature of one of the sweetest women God had ever created—he stopped short, consoled by a new thought.
“What did I do, or say?” he asked himself. “I only made excuses to get away from a fashionable entertainment. I did not slight her personally. She is a child! She has jumped to some conclusion or another—I must write at once and disabuse her of it, whatever it is.”
He sat down, and wrote:—
“Dear Princess,—It grieves me to find that you have lost confidence in me as your medical adviser, because I have given much consideration to your case. Allow me to assure you that if you permit me a further trial, you will be satisfied with the result. At the same time, if you conclude that you are better without my advice, I sincerely hope you will allow me to talk over your next medical adviser with you, as the selection is a matter of importance to your health.