Lady Bassett, closeted with Mr. Coyne, began first to congratulate herself. “Mr. Bassett,” said she, “is no friend of mine, but he has done me a kindness in sending Sir Charles here, when he might have sent him to some place where he might have been made worse instead of better. Here, I conclude, gentlemen of your ability will soon cure his trifling disorder, will you not?”
“I have good hopes, your ladyship; he is better to-day.”
“Now I dare say you could tell me to a month when he will be cured.”
“Oh, your ladyship exaggerates my skill too much.”
“Three months?”
“That is a short time to give us; but your ladyship may rely on it we will do our best.”
“Will you? Then I have no fear of the result. Oh, by-the-by, Dr. Willis wanted me to take a message to you, Mr. Coyne. He knows you by reputation.”
“Indeed! Really I was not aware that my humble—”
“Then you are better known than you in your modesty supposed. Let me see: what was the message? Oh, it was a peculiarity in Sir Charles he wished you to know. Dr. Willis has attended him from a boy, and he wished me to tell you that morphia and other sedatives have some very bad effects on him. I told Dr. Willis you would probably find that and every thing else out without a hint from him or any one else.”
“Yes; but I will make a note of it, for all that.”