“Rachel,” said the doctor, “I have brought my wife to help cure you. She is as good a doctor as I am.” And he turned proudly to Hetty.
Rachel gazed at her earnestly, but did not speak. Hetty felt herself singularly embarrassed by the gaze.
“I wish I could help you,” she said; “but I think my husband will make you well.”
Rachel colored.
“I never permit myself to hope for it,” she replied. “If I did, I should be discontented at once.”
“Why! are you contented as it is?” exclaimed Hetty impetuously.
“Oh, yes!” said Rachel. “I enjoy every minute, except when the pain is too hard: you don't know what a beautiful thing life seems to me. I always have the sky you know” (glancing at the window), “and that is enough for a lifetime. Every day birds fly by too; and every day my father reads to me at least two hours. So I have great deal to think about.”
“Miss Barlow, I envy you,” said Hetty in a tone which startled even herself. Again Rachel bent on her the same clairvoyant gaze which had so embarrassed her before. Hetty shrank from it still more than at first, and left the room, saying to her husband: “I will wait for you outside.”
As they drove away, Hetty said:
“Eben, what is it in her look which makes me so uneasy? I don't like to have her look at me.”