"Then I shall bid you good morning," said I, assuming my hat; but turning again to the daughter, while he was ringing the bell for the servant—he of the calves and whiskers—to order the "pill-box," I said, "I have often gone to the scene of your accident, at the same hour, to look for you. Pardon me saying this; but your face so dwelt in my memory."
"At the same hour—it was about two in the afternoon," said she, with a bright smile.
"Yes—good evening, Dr. Short," blundered the baronet.
My name was evidently not worth his committal to memory.
And I drove away, feeling happy in the consciousness that I had seen her again, and that, though engaged, as I had been told, I should see her again where we first met, for her bright glance of intelligence told me that.
Her father had shown pretty pointedly—with all his punctilio, almost rudely—that he had no further use for my professional services; but I felt deeply smitten by the beauty of the girl. I strove in vain to thrust her image from my thoughts, and recalled again and again the galling information that she was the betrothed bride of some beast—I rated him "a beast"—unknown; but strove in vain; and found myself going to sleep that night in my den above the surgery in Bedford Street, with her laced handkerchief under my pillow, like a lover of romance, with all the roar of the prosaic Strand in my ears.
Next afternoon—Crammer was dutifully at his rich aunt's funeral—saw me in the park, and occupying the same seat from whence I started to arrest the runaway horse. Every fair equestrienne I saw in the distance made my heart beat quicker; but how joyous were its emotions—how high its pulses—when, exactly at the hour of two, I saw her come trotting slowly along the walk, accompanied by the same old groom, and draw up, with her little gauntletted glove tight on the bridle rein, just before me. I came forward, and, after raising my hat, presented my hand, which I felt to be trembling.
"Somehow, I thought you would be here," said she, with charming frankness, "and how is your arm? Better still, I trust."
"I shall have the splints off to-morrow, Miss Chalcot."
"That is good—I'm so thankful! Do you know that though this is only the third time we have met, Dr. Mortimer, I feel quite as if we were old friends? You must have thought my reception of you rather ungracious yesterday."