“I think she expected you to call during the past ten days, Dr. Goldsmith,” said the lady. “I believe that she was more than a little disappointed that you could not find time to come to her.”
“Was she, indeed? Did she really expect me to call?” he asked. This fresh proof of the confidence which the Jessamy Bride reposed in him was very dear to him. She had not merely entrusted him with her enterprise on the chance of his being able to save her; she had had confidence in his ability to save her, and had looked for his coming to tell her of his success.
“She seemed very anxious to see you,” said Mrs. Horneck. “I fear, dear Dr. Goldsmith, that my poor child has something on her mind. That is her sister's idea also. And yet it is impossible that she should have any secret trouble; she has not been out of our sight since her visit to Devonshire last year. At that time she had, I believe, some silly, girlish fancy—my brother wrote to me that there had been in his neighbourhood a certain attractive man, an officer who had returned home with a wound received in the war with the American rebels. But surely she has got over that foolishness!”
“Ah, yes. You may take my word for it, madam, she has got over that foolishness,” said Goldsmith. “You may take my word for it that when she sees me the roses will return to her cheeks.”
“I do hope so,” said Mrs. Horneck. “Yes, you could always contrive to make her merry, Dr. Goldsmith. We have all missed you lately; we feared that that disgraceful letter in the Packet had affected you. That was why my son called upon you at your rooms. I hope he assured you that nothing it contained would interfere with our friendship.”
“That was very kind of you, my dear madam,” said he; “but I have seen Mary since that thing appeared.”
“To be sure you have. Did you not think that she looked very ill?”
“Very ill indeed, madam; but I am ready to give you my assurance that when I have been half an hour with her she will be on the way to recovery. You have not, I fear, much confidence in my skill as a doctor of medicine, and, to tell you the truth, whatever your confidence in this direction may amount to, it is a great deal more than what I myself have. Still, I think you will say something in my favour when you see Mary's condition begin to improve from the moment we have a little chat together.”
“That is wherein I have the amplest confidence in you, dear Dr. Goldsmith. Your chat with her will do more for her than all the medicine the most skilful of physicians could prescribe. It was a very inopportune time for her to fall sick.”
“I think that all sicknesses are inopportune. But why Mary's?”