“I hope that God will spare her life.”
His serious tone awed Muriel, who raised his hand to her lips, and murmured,—
“My dear doctor, I wish I could help you. I wish I could do something to make you look less troubled.”
“You can help me, little one, by being happy yourself, and by aiding Salome in cheering my sister, while I am forced to spend so much time away from her. Good evening. Take care of yourselves till I come home.”
Humming a bar of a Genoese barcarole, Muriel ran up stairs to join her governess; but Salome turned and followed the master of the house to the front door.
“Dr. Grey, can I render you any assistance at ‘Solitude’?”
“Thank you,—the time has passed when you might have aided me. Two weeks ago, when I requested you to go with me, Mrs. Gerome was rational and would have yielded to your influence, but now she is delirious and you could accomplish nothing. The servants are faithful and attentive, and can be trusted during my absence to execute my orders.”
A bright flush rose to Salome’s temples, and her eyes drooped beneath his, so anxious and yet so calmly sad.
“At the time you spoke to me I could not go, but now I really should be glad to accompany you. Will you take me?”
“No, Salome.”