“Elsie, you impose upon me a duty which I am afraid Mrs. Gerome will not allow me to discharge; and, since she is so exceedingly averse to meeting strangers, I should not feel justified in thrusting myself into her presence.”
“Not even to prevent a crime?”
“I hope that your excited imagination and anxious heart exaggerate the possibility of the danger to which you allude.”
“No; exaggeration is not one of my habits, and I know my mistress better than she knows herself. She thinks that suicide is not a sin, but says it is cowardly; and she utterly detests 180 and loathes cowardice. Dr. Grey, I could not rest quietly in my coffin if she is left alone in this dreary house, after I am carried to my long home. Will you stay here awhile, or take her to your house,—at least for a short time?”
“I will, at all events, promise to comply with your wishes as fully as she will permit. But recollect that I am comparatively a stranger to her, and her haughty reception of me the day I was compelled to come here on your account, does not encourage me to presume in future. Respect for her wishes, however unreasonable, and respect for myself, would forbid an intrusion on my part.”
“If you saw an utter stranger drowning, would fear of being considered presumptuous or impertinent prevent your trying to save him? Your self-love should not hold you back from a Christian duty.”
“And you may rest assured that it never shall, when I feel that interference—no matter how unwelcome or ungraciously received—will prove beneficial. But remember that your mistress is eccentric and shrinking, and all efforts to befriend her must be made very cautiously.”
“True, doctor; yet sometimes, instead of consulting her, it is best to treat her as a wilful child. I believe you could obtain some influence over her if you would only try to break the ice, because she has spoken kindly of you several times since I have been so helpless, and asked what she could do to show her gratitude for your goodness to me. Yesterday she said she intended to direct Robert to take some fine fruit to your house, and she remarked that your eyes were, in comparison with other folks’, what Sabbath is to working week-days,—were so full of rest, that tired anxious people might be refreshed by looking at them. Sir, that is more than I have heard her utter for seven years about anybody; and, therefore, I think you might do her some good.”
Dr. Grey shook his head, but remained silent; and presently Elsie touched his arm, and continued,—
“There is something I wish to say to you before I die, but not now. I want you to promise me that when you see my end 181 is indeed at hand, you will tell me in time to let me talk a little to you. Will you?”