‘You are right, my dear,’ replied the Doctor, staggering to his feet; ‘I really want rest. But you will go to bed, too, Lizzie. You will not sit up too late with Monsieur de Courcelles?’
‘There is no fear of that, for I am going at once,’ said the young man, as he rose to his feet. ‘Good-night, Doctor; good-night, Liz. I shall look in upon you again to-morrow.’
He nodded to each of them as he passed out into the night air, and Liz looked after his handsome lithe figure, as it disappeared behind the clump of mango trees, with a sigh of love and regret. But there was nothing but affectionate solicitude patent in her manner as she proffered her arm to support her father to his room.
‘Father, you are trembling like a leaf. I think I shall give you a little quinine. By the way, have you heard any news from the White House to-day? Are they all well?’
‘I trust so. I have heard nothing to the contrary; and I saw Mr Courtney as usual this morning. What makes you ask me, my dear?’
‘Because Jessica said that Maraquita looked ill.’
‘It can be nothing serious, or I should have heard of it. Probably the effects of this intense heat, and the unhealthy state of the atmosphere. But they are well provided with disinfectants at the White House, and Mr Courtney will not permit his wife or daughter to enter the plantation. They always drive on the other side of the island.’
‘That accounts for my not having seen either of them for so long,’ said Lizzie, as she left her father to lie down, dressed as he was, and try to gain a much-needed repose.
