"Dear Julia," I said, in as firm a voice as I could command.
"Yes, Martin."
But just then Grace, the housemaid, knocked emphatically at the door, and after a due pause entered with a smiling, significant face, yet with an apologetic courtesy.
"If you please, Dr. Martin," she said, "I'm very sorry, but Mrs. Lihou's baby is taken with convulsion-fits; and they want you to go as fast as ever you can, please, sir."
"Was I sorry or glad? I could not tell. It was a reprieve; but then I knew positively it was nothing more than a reprieve. The sentence must be executed. Julia came to me, bent her cheek toward me, and I kissed it. That was our usual salutation when our morning's interview was ended.
"I am going down to the new house," she said. "I lost a good deal of time yesterday, and I must make up for it to-day. Shall you be passing by at any time, Martin?"
"Yes—no—I cannot tell exactly," I stammered.
"If you are passing, come in for a few minutes," she answered; "I have a thousand things to speak to you about."
"Shall you come in to lunch?" I asked.
"No, I shall take something with me," she replied; "it hinders so; coming back here."