“Of course, and I have tried; but what can I do? He will not see me, and that cousin of his, who, by the way, seems to have a great deal of business with Mrs Berens, evidently does not want me there.”
“But ought you to study that, Hartley, when your friend is ill?”
“I have thought all this out, Mary, and I feel sometimes as if I could do nothing. You see it is like this: I feel certain that North does not want to see me.”
“Why, dear?” said Mary earnestly.
“Because it reminds him too much of his trouble with Leo. He feels that very bitterly, and I know my presence would bring it up. Would it not be better to keep away, and let his nerves settle themselves?”
“No,” said Mary, in a quiet, firm way. “It was no fault of yours. It was Dr North’s own seeking, and he needs help. Go to him, Hartley.”
“Go to him?”
“Yes. He must be in sore trouble in every way. You say his cousin is there?”
“Yes, and if I went much I should quarrel with that man.”
“No, no; you must not quarrel. But recollect how Horace North used to say that he felt obliged to be civil to him, but he wished he would not come.”