“I have often heard my mother speak of it. I was choked by the croup, and you had the courage to lance my windpipe.”
“Had I?” said the doctor, with a smile. He added gravely, “It seems then that to be cruel is sometimes kindness. It is the nature of men to love those whose life they save.”
“And they love you.”
“Well, our affection is not perfect. I don’t know which is most to blame, but after all these years I have failed to inspire you with confidence.” The doctor’s voice was sad, and Josephine’s bosom panted.
“Pray do not say so,” she cried. “I would trust you with my life.”
“But not with your secret.”
“My secret! What secret? I have no secrets.”
“Josephine, you have now for full twelve months suffered in body and mind, yet you have never come to me for counsel, for comfort, for an old man’s experience and advice, nor even for medical aid.”
“But, dear friend, I assure you”—
“We DO NOT deceive our friend. We CANNOT deceive our doctor.”