“No doubt there is plenty,” said Miss Gale, sharply; “and, by my authority, I postpone it all till you are stronger. Bid us good-by for the present, Mr. Vizard.”
“I obey,” said he. “But, madam, please remember I am always at your service. Send for me when you please, and the oftener the better for me.”
“Thank you, my kind host. Oblige me with your hand.”
He gave her his hand. She took it, and put her lips to it with pure and gentle and seemly gratitude, and with no loss of dignity, though the act was humble.
He turned his head away, to hide the emotion that act and the touch of her sweet lips caused him; Miss Gale hurried him out of the room.
“You naughty patient,” said she; “you must do nothing to excite yourself.”
“Sweet physician, loving nurse, I am not excited.”
Miss Gale felt her heart to see.
“Gratitude does not excite,” said Ina. “It is too tame a feeling in the best of us.”
“That is a fact,” said Miss Gale; “so let us all be grateful, and avoid exciting topics. Think what I should feel if you had a relapse. Why, you would break my heart.”