She made no pretense of answering him. It seemed inexpressibly cruel to her that he should have taken this time to go to New York,—unfeeling that he should tell her of it in palliation of his neglect.
"I went to consult an oculist."
At the word oculist all thought of herself of him, was gone.
"An oculist! Oh, what did he say?"
"Nothing definite, of course, until he has seen him. He will be down in the morning."
"You had to go," she said, still unreconciled, "you could not send?"
"No. I went directly from here to Dr. Helsor, a fine oculist in Washington. I thought that perhaps I could get him out here before night. When I reached his office I found him quite sick and unable to leave the house, though he saw me. He was not able to take any cases, and he advised me to go personally to Dr. Abelthorpe of New York and if possible to bring him down here to examine Philip."
"Did you see him?" she asked eagerly.
"Yes, at last. But I had to wait two days to do it. He had been called out of the city and was not back until yesterday. I wrote you at once from New York—but I have just found the letter on my table with some other mail."
This was the explanation then. How simple it was. And his haste had been for Philip's sake!