“Well, yes, my lad, perhaps you had. Now, Very, my dear, say good-bye to him like a woman, and wish him well. Some day in the future you two will meet at dinner and laugh at this rosy-posy boy-and-girl love business. And by the way, Rolleston, my lad, keep your eyes open, and send me any little natural history specimen you find.”
“Good-bye, Veronica,” said Denis, who did not seem to hear the Doctor’s words.
“Good-bye,” she said, giving him a wistful look; and her voice was almost inaudible, while her eyes looked dull and her cheeks ashy pale.
He took her cold limp hand, held it for a few moments in his, then turned and rushed out of the house.
“Papa! Father!”
Only two words; but their tone was enough for the Doctor, who caught her to his heart, then placed her in a chair and turned to the window.
“Hi! Denis!” he roared; and the young man turned, coming back in obedience to the signals the Doctor made, and standing once more in the room.
“Look here, sir, you had better have that money: you’ll want it over yonder.”
“Did you call me back for that, sir?” said the young man bitterly—“to go through this agony again? No: I will make the money I want myself.”
“Bravo!” cried the Doctor, seizing his hand. “But you sha’n’t go!”