Mr. Sparhawk went to Dr. King's, but the physician was not in; and then he dropped in at Christopher Dent's and found the little apothecary very pleased to see him, indeed. Was Anthony progressing? Yes! Well, that was excellent news, indeed. But, of course, he would be. He needed rest, that was all,—a rest of both body and mind,—and then he'd be in wonderful health. And wasn't it quite amazing the way things turned out? Matters might not be so bad, after all, with Rufus Stevens' Sons. There was a chance for the house to recover. A good chance. He had been present during a conversation between Monsieur and Mademoiselle Lafargue. There were papers, it seems,—a deal of papers,—with which much might be done. And mademoiselle was going to take them to Captain Weir that very day.
"To Captain Weir!" said Mr. Sparhawk, and he compressed his lips and raised his brows.
"Ah!" said Christopher, "you knew, then, that she had not regarded the captain favorably?" He smiled and rubbed his bald crown. "But she has safely recovered from that state of mind. Oh, yes, some time since. Indeed, there's more than one of late concerning whom she's altered her mind. It must be she was confused at first; she could not have looked at things clearly. When we are in a strange place and feel friendless, we are apt to be like that. But things are better with her now," with great satisfaction. "And she has a deal more confidence."
Of course that would be so! Time and usage, said Mr. Sparhawk, work many things out for us. The perky little man exchanged nods with Christopher over this, and smiled and took snuff. But that he was astonished he carefully put by; gently, then, he shaped the talk and delicately he pressed his questions. No, to be sure, she had not favored the captain. Quite the reverse, indeed. She had—could one go so far?—detested him. Christopher was of the opinion that it was not going too far. For some reason she had detested him; more than that, she had feared him. He had come to know that from her father, poor man, who'd occasionally step in for a chat of an afternoon.
"In coming across the sea, her father must have had an unrequited journey," said Mr. Sparhawk; "there have been little returns, I should say, in profits or ease." He shook his head sadly; and then he said: "It is fortunate that he had you for an occasional gossip. He came in often, I have no doubt?"
Oh, yes; quite often. And it seemed to ease his mind. He regarded Christopher, so it seemed, as a scholar and a scientist, which pleased the herbalist much; and they discussed many problems which had long vexed the world. Christopher was on the point of enumerating these questions; but Mr. Sparhawk gently diverted him to a more immediate thing. It was odd how the daughter had so suddenly reversed her opinion of Captain Weir. Of course there were no reasons for it, and Mr. Sparhawk smiled as he said this. When women changed their minds, there seldom were.
Mademoiselle was not like that! Christopher was up at once in her defense. No, no! She always had reasons, and good ones, too. You could be assured of that. And it happened that he knew of what had changed her toward Captain Weir. Her father had spoken of it. And then the little apothecary told the tale of the visit to Nevens, the money-broker, as it had filtered through Monsieur Lafargue's mind to his own. Mr. Sparhawk listened appreciatively.
"Very good," said he. "Very good. That was like Captain Weir; it's quite like him. Each time I hear one of these little things told of him I am more convinced than ever that he is a clever man. An able man."
"And kind-hearted," said Christopher.
"Oh, no doubt," said Mr. Sparhawk; "there's no doubt of that in the world."