Dr. Fewster was a little nervous when he met the great man, who, without waiting for the proprietor, had gone at once into Lady Farrington’s apartments, and was already in close conversation with her.
‘Dr. Fewster? Ah! I wished to see her ladyship,’ began Dr. Mayne, rather curtly.
‘Oh, of course. And how are you this morning, my dear lady?’ inquired the asylum doctor.
‘Very well; perfectly well, as I have been these five years past,’ replied Lady Farrington, with great coolness and self-possession.
The old lady had aged considerably since we last saw her. Her hair was snow white. There was a sort of rather mournful expression in her dark eyes, which one sees often in human beings and all who have been long in captivity, and have but little hope of release. But these eyes had lost none of their brilliancy, and she sat up straight in her chair, with evident signs of strength and vitality still unimpaired. The great news which the attendant had communicated to her but an hour or two before, that Herbert was close by, and meant to get her out, somehow, had put new life into her.
‘Your ladyship slept well?’ went on Dr. Fewster, ‘no visions, no visitors—from Africa?’
Lady Farrington’s hands trembled, and a sudden gleam flashed from her eyes, but she saw Miss Ponting looking at her, and instantly she subsided into perfect calm.
The reference to Herbert was artfully made, but it failed.
‘I never see visions. You are talking nonsense, Dr. Fewster.’