“Wife, eh?”—incredulously.
“But it is a secret.”
“Oh, ah, of course!”—knowingly. “So this is the Miss Christie I’ve heard so much about!” And he deliberately put on his spectacles and stared at me in the faint moonlight. “Well, she wouldn’t have turned the heads of the men when I was young.”
We both laughed at the old man’s rudeness.
“I have no doubt heads were harder to turn then, Doctor Lowe,” said Laurence dryly.
“Well, take care some one else doesn’t turn hers while you are away!” said the Doctor, glaring at him ferociously; and he told the coachman to drive on, and drew up the window sharply.
This last hit struck poor Laurence as an evil omen; and, when I told him that I must go in now, and that I should see him again on the morrow, he flung his arms around me in such distress that I did not know what to say to comfort him.
“See what clever Doctor Lowe thinks of your Mr. Rayner, Violet,” said he, looking anxiously into my eyes. “Now listen, my darling. Don’t trust him, don’t trust anybody while I am away, and don’t believe what anybody may tell you about me. What would you do if they showed you the certificate of my marriage to another woman, Violet?”
“Oh, Laurence, you are not going away to be married, are you?”
“No, child, no; and, if any one tells you so, you will know it is a lie. And, if you get no letters, and they tell you I am dead—”