The man drew back with unmoved countenance, and Doris leaned forward.
“Let me put them more comfortably for you, my lord,” she said.
He allowed her to do it, without a word or sign of protest or resentment, and sank back with a sigh.
Oh, woman, in our hours of ease,
Uncertain, coy, and hard to please;
When pain and anguish wring the brow,
A ministering angel thou.
“Scott! Walter Scott! I can understand that now—now you are here! Yes, a ministering angel!”
He seemed lost in thought for a moment, then he turned his keen eyes upon her inquiringly.
“You look pale and sad. Have you been in trouble? I have no right to ask, you will say; but curiosity is an old man’s privilege, remember, my dear.”