“He shall know everything about her to-morrow, and then if he will not hear reason—” Doctor Phillips shrugged his shoulders and said no more.
“But surely,” said his companion, “you do not think for a moment that Ralph could ever seriously contemplate breaking his engagement with Elinor Leyton for the sake of this girl! O! how angry Arthur would be if he suspected his brother could be guilty of such a thing—he, who considers that a man’s word should be his bond!”
“It is impossible to say, Margaret—I should not like to give an opinion on the subject. When young men are led away by their passions, they lose sight of everything else—and if this girl is anything like her mother, she must be an epitome of lust!”
“O! you will speak to Ralph as soon as ever you can,” cried Margaret, in a tone of distress. “You will put the matter as strongly before him as possible, will you not?”
“You may depend on my doing all I can, Margaret, but as there seems no likelihood of my being able to interview the young gentleman to-night, suppose you and I go to bed! I feel rather tired after my passage over, and you must want to go back to your baby!”
“Doctor,” said Margaret, in a timid voice, as they ascended the hotel staircase together, “you don’t think baby very ill, do you?”
“I think she requires a great deal of care, Margaret!”
“But she has always had that!”
“I don’t doubt it, but I can’t deny that there are symptoms about her case that I do not understand. She seems to have had all her strength drawn out of her. She is in the condition of a child who has been exercised and excited and hurried from place to place, far beyond what she is able to bear. But it may arise from internal causes. I shall be better able to judge to-morrow when my medicine has had its effect. Good-night, my dear, and don’t worry. Please God, we will have the little one all right again in a couple of days.”
But he only said the words out of compassion. In his own opinion, the infant was dying.