“No; if you wanted to attend to him, I could take care of Rachel.”
“I cannot tell, Bessie, I believe it is pure goodnature on Mrs. Huntsford’s part, but if we go, it must be from Rachel’s spontaneous movement. I will not press her on any account. I had rather the world said she was crazy at once than expose her to the risk of one of the dreadful nights that haunted us till we came here to perfect quiet.”
“But she is well now. She looks better and nicer than I ever saw her. Really, Alick, now her face is softer, and her eyes more veiled, and her chin not cocked up, I am quite proud of her. Every one will be struck with her good looks.”
“Flattery, Bessie,” he said, not ill pleased. “Yes, she is much better, and more like herself; but I dread all this being overthrown. If she herself wishes to go, it may be a good beginning, but she must not be persuaded.”
“Then I must not even tell her that she won’t be required to croquet, and that I’ll guard her from all civil speeches.”
“No, for indeed, Bessie, on your own account and Lord Keith’s, you should hardly spend a long afternoon from home.”
“Here’s the war in the enemy’s quarters! As to fatigue, dawdling about Mrs. Huntsford’s garden, is much the same as dawdling about my own, and makes me far more entertaining.”
“I cannot help thinking, Bessie, that Lord Keith is more ill than you suppose. I am sure he is in constant pain.”
“So I fear,” said Bessie, gravely; “but what can be done? He will see no one but his old surgeon in Edinburgh.”
“Then take him there.”