“I don’t know yet,” he replied drily. “But supposing I do: how often would you want me to come down here?”
“How often?” echoed the lady, with her eyes dilating. “I meant for you to come and live here until he is well.”
“Phee-ew!” whistled the doctor, and he sat back in his chair thinking and biting his nails. “What does she mean?” he thought. “Am I too hard upon her? Is my dislike prejudice, or am I justified in thinking her a woman as deceitful as she is bad? If I am right, I am wanted down here to help some one or other of her plans. I won’t stop. I’m sorry for poor Scarlett, and I might do him good, but—”
“You have considered the matter, and you will stay, doctor, will you not?” said Lady Scarlett sweetly.
“No, madam; I do not think it would be fair to any of the parties concerned.”
“Doctor!” she cried appealingly, “oh, pray, don’t say that. Forgive me if I speak plainly. Is it a question of money? If it is, pray, speak. I’d give up half of what we have for my husband to be restored.”
“No, madam,” said the doctor bluntly; “it is not a question of money. Several things combine to make me decline this offer; principally, I find a want of confidence in undertaking so grave a responsibility.”
“Doctor!” cried Lady Scarlett, rising and standing before him, with one hand resting upon the table, “you are trying to deceive me.”
“Indeed, madam—”
“You never liked me, doctor, from the hour I was engaged; you have never liked me since.”