“Oh, nonsense; I must go back.”
“Yes; that’s what all prisoners say or think,” said Scarlett, laughing—“Don’t be too hard upon the poor fellow, dear. He may have as much milk as he likes. Soften his confinement as pleasantly us you can.—Excuse me, Jack. There’s Prayle.”
He nodded, and went off down one of the paths, and his departure seemed to have taken with it some of the freedom and ease of the conversation that had been carried on; the doctor’s manner becoming colder, and the bright girlish look fading out of Lady Scarlett’s face.
“This is very, very kind of you both,” said the doctor, turning to her; “but I really ought not to stay.”
“James will be quite hurt, I am sure, if you do not,” she answered. “He thinks so much of you.”
“I’m glad of it,” said the doctor earnestly; and Lady Scarlett’s face brightened a little. “He’s one of the most frank and open-hearted fellows in the world. It’s one of the bright streaks in my career that we have always remained friends. Really I envy him his home here, though I fear that I should be out of place in such a country-life.”
“I do not think you would, Doctor Scales,” said his hostess, “but of course he is busy the greater part of his time in town, and that makes the change so nice.”
“But you?” said the doctor. “Do you not find it dull when he is away?”
“I? I find it dull?” she cried, with a girlish laugh. “Oh dear, no. I did for the first month, but you have no idea how busy I am. James has made me such a gardener; and I superintend. Come and see my poultry and the cows.”
“To be sure I will,” said the doctor more warmly, as they walked on towards a fence which separated them from a meadow running down to the river, where three soft fawn-coloured Jersey cows were grazing, each of which raised its head slowly, and came up, munching the sweet grass, to put its deer-like head over the fence to feel the touch of its mistress’s hand.