I then explained what it was I wished him to do—to attend to the sick woman regularly, and to prescribe what was necessary in the shape of food and medicine. He was to relieve their minds in respect of his fees, which, with all other expenses, I would pay. In token of my sincerity and ability to carry out my desire I begged him to accept a couple of sovereigns in advance, to which he very willingly consented.
"My patients are not quite regular in their payments," he said in a gentle tone, "and it is not in my nature to press them. So far as gratitude goes, I am richly repaid. You are, perhaps, a relative of the Camerons."
"I am not in any way related to them," I replied.
"A friend of long standing, then."
"I have never seen the mother, and scarcely an hour ago I saw Miss Cameron for the first time—by chance," I added.
"A singular hour," he observed, "and a strange night for a chance meeting."
"Yes—but so it happened." And I related how it came about, saying nothing of myself or of the circumstances which caused me to be perambulating the streets at such a time.
He was silent for a little while, and I fancied I heard him sigh. Then he said, "You are a gentleman."
"I hope I may lay claim to the title."
"In station, by which I mean worldly circumstances, far above the Camerons—at least, so I judge."