“You may linger for months, and it is possible that you may die quite suddenly; consequently, it might be impracticable for me to fulfil the promise you require. Still, if I can do so, I will certainly comply with your wishes. Would it not be better to tell me at once what you desire me to know?”
“While I live it is not necessary that any one should know, and it is only when I am about to die that I shall speak to you. For my sake, for humanity’s sake, try to become acquainted with my mistress and make her like you, as she certainly will, if she only knows you.”
A tap at the door interrupted the conversation, and soon after, Dr. Grey quitted the sick-room.
He paused in the hall to examine a fine copy of Landseer’s “Old Shepherd’s Chief Mourner,” and, while he stood before it, a large greyhound started up from the mat at the front door, and bounded towards him. Simultaneously Mrs. Gerome appeared at the threshold of the parlor.
“Come here, sir! Poor fellow, come here!”
The dog obeyed her instantly; and, pressing close to her, looked up wistfully in her face.
“Good morning, Mrs. Gerome. I must thank you for coming so promptly to my assistance. I have never seen this dog until to-day, and, consequently, was not on my guard.”
“He arrived only yesterday, and is so overjoyed to be with me once more that he allows no one else to approach.”
“He is by far the handsomest dog I have ever seen in America.”
“Yes, I had great difficulty in obtaining him. My agent assures me that he belongs to the best that are reared in the tribe of Beni Lam; and that he is a genuine Arab, there can be no doubt.”