“And because, my dear madam, when I found how bad you were I begged Lady Tilborough to save you from a long hour’s drive home when your coachman was not to be found.”
“But you lured my husband away, woman.”
“Well, I have confessed to that, my dear madam, and I am sorry that you should look upon it with different eyes from mine. I don’t think I have been such a terrible sinner, do you, doctor?” she added, with a look which made the gentleman addressed flutter as regarded his nerves.
But he had the medical man’s command over self, and he said quietly: “I think when Lady Lisle has grown calmer she will look a little more leniently upon her neighbour’s actions. Now, pray, my dear madam, let me beg of you to—Ah! that’s better. Don’t try to restrain your tears. They are the greatest anodyne for an overwrought mind. Now, remember your promise. Let me ring for your maid. A cup of tea and a good long sleep, and the racing escapade will wear a different aspect by the light of noon.”
“Oh, doctor, doctor!” sobbed the poor woman, passionately, as she yielded to Granton’s pressure, and sank into a lounge; “you do not know—you do not know!”
“Yes, yes, yes, I know; but pray think. I grant that racing is gambling, but I really believe my dear old friend Hilton Lisle will for the future yield to your wishes and fight shy—I beg your pardon—religiously abstain from attending Turf meetings.”
“Oh, oh, oh, doctor!” sobbed the patient, who was at her weakest in the weakest hour of the twenty-four. “You do not know all. I could have forgiven that; but when I discovered the base disloyalty of the man in whom I had always the most perfect faith—”
“Dear me! Ahem!” coughed the doctor. “I—” and he glanced at Lady Tilborough.
“Oh, hang it, no!” cried the latter, firing up. “Surely, madam, you don’t think that! Oh, absurd! Poor old Hilton! Oh, nonsense, nonsense! Why, the woman is jealous of me!”
“No, no, no!” cried Lady Lisle, excitedly. “I did not think—Oh, no, Lady Tilborough, I do not think that.”