"I have; and you may set your mind at rest, dearest. He assures me that there is nothing serious the matter."
Paulina was entirely reassured, and throughout that evening she was brighter and happier than usual in the society of her lover—more lovely, more bewitching than ever, as it seemed to Douglas.
He waited a week before calling again on the physician; and he might, perhaps, have delayed his visit even longer, had he not felt that the fever and languor from which he suffered increased rather than abated.
This time Dr. Westbrook's manner seemed graver and more perplexed than on the former visit. He asked even more questions, and at last, after a thoughtful examination of the patient, he said, very seriously—
"Mr. Dale, I must tell you frankly that I do not like your symptoms."
"You consider them alarming?"
"I consider them perplexing, rather than alarming. And as you are not a nervous subject I think I may venture to trust you fully."
"You may trust in the strength of my nerve, if that is what you mean."
"I believe I may, and I shall have to test your moral courage and general force of character."
"Pray be brief, then," said Douglas with a faint smile. "I can almost guess what you have to say. You are going to tell me that I carry the seeds of a mortal disease; that the shadowy hand of death already holds me in its fatal grip."