"I'm sure I don't want his money--small income but sure--yes--but it's so dull--I love London--I can't blossom here--I'm like a cabbage--in Town I expand--such nice amusements--Madame Tussaud's and the Crystal Palace--so exciting--it's food--food--oh, dear me, Dr. Nestley is this you? how is my cousin? better?--so glad--it's very odd, isn't it? I mean it's not odd I'm glad--no--quite so--oh, you want to see Miss Challoner--yes--good-bye just now," and Miss Cassy, with the tea cosy perched on her head, disappeared, leaving Nestley alone with Una.
The young man was not looking well, as his ruddy colour had given place to an unhealthy paleness, his skin had a flaccid appearance and his countenance wore an anxious, haggard expression. His eyes glanced restlessly round the room looking at everything except Una, and he moved his hands nervously. Even in his voice there was a change, for in place of his former bold confident tones he now spoke in a low hesitating manner.
"I just came to tell you the squire is better, Miss Challoner," he said in an agitated voice, keeping his eyes on the ground.
"It's very good of you, doctor," she replied courteously. "I hope he will become quite strong again."
"I'm afraid not, his body is worn out and has not strength enough to resist disease--of course, now he has only a slight cold, but any chance exposure may affect his lungs seriously and if pneumonia sets in I'm afraid he will have no chance."
"What is to be done?" she asked anxiously.
"I cannot do more than I have done, he must be kept quiet and warm. I've persuaded him to take some strong soup which will do him good--in fact I think his ascetic manner of living has had as much to do with his ill-health as anything else."
"I hope he will get well," said Una earnestly, "if he would only change his mode of life I'm sure he would get well."
"Yes," the young man answered absently, "of course, exactly," he hesitated a moment then burst out in despair, "Then I would have to go away."
Una looked at him surprised at his evident emotion.