“Better leave her now, madam,” said Leigh, softly. “Sleep is the great thing for her.” Then, turning to the maid—“You had better stay and watch by her, though she will not wake for hours.”
“God bless you, sir,” she whispered, with a look full of gratitude which made Leigh give her an encouraging smile, and he then followed Mrs Wilton downstairs.
“Really, it’s wonderful,” she said. “Thank you so much, Doctor. I’m sure you couldn’t have been nicer if you’d been quite an old man, and I really think that next time I’m ill I shall—Oh, my dear, she’s ever so much better now.”
“Humph!” ejaculated Wilton; and then he gave his wife an angry look, as she pushed him in the chest.
“Come in here and sit down, Mr Leigh. I want you to tell us all you think.”
The Doctor followed into the library, whose walls were covered with books that were never used, while, making an effort to be civil, their owner pointed to a chair and took one himself, Leigh waiting till his plump, amiable-looking hostess had subsided, and well-filled that nearest the fire.
“Found her better then?” said Wilton.
“No, sir,” said Leigh, smiling, “but she is certainly better now.”
“That’s what I meant. Nothing the matter, then. Vapours, whims, young girls’ hysterics, and that sort of thing? What did she have for breakfast, Maria?”
“Nothing at all, dear. I can’t get her to eat.”