‘Yes, sir,’ answered the old man; ‘she’s seen a sight o’ trouble lately.’
Where’s her husband?’
A flush of shame spread itself over the old gamekeeper’s withered old face.
‘Ah, I see—family trouble. Guessed so. Been fretting.’
He bent down kindly over Bess.
‘Come, you must cheer up, Mrs. Smith,’ he said. ‘Get to the window—look out—read—work—do something.’
He rose to go.
Marks went with him to the door.
‘Can’t you give her anything, sir?’ he said. ‘She’s changing dreadful. She’s breaking her heart.’
‘My good sir,’ answered the doctor, ‘I don’t keep any plaister that can heal that. She doesn’t want medicine. She wants change and fresh air. Get her away from London—seaside—bracing air. Talk to her—keep her from thinking.’