‘Yes, and I wish I could think that there was no further reason for her fears. Lizzie, I have come here this morning for one purpose only,—to persuade you to return with me to the White House.’
Lizzie started, and coloured.
‘Oh, Mr Courtney, I cannot. I don’t know why you want me there, but unless it is in my capacity as medical adviser, I must refuse. You forget that Mrs Courtney ordered me never to show my face there again.’
‘I can allow no feminine quarrels to interfere with your safety, Lizzie; and it is to secure that that I beg of you to take up your residence at my house until these mutinous ideas have been knocked out of the coolies’ heads. I do not feel that you are safe,—that we are, any of us, safe. I begin to distrust even my own hands, for whom I have done all in my power.’
‘Mr Courtney, I appreciate your kindness, but there are too many reasons why I cannot accept it.’
‘Name them, my dear.’
‘I have named one already, sir. Another is my infant charge. Do you suppose I would desert her?’
‘Bring her with you. There is room in the White House for us all.’
‘No, Mr Courtney,’ she answered proudly, ‘it is impossible. I will not take the child under the roof of the very woman who has falsely accused me of being its mother.’
‘But I am sure, Lizzie, that neither my wife nor Maraquita really believe that story.’