Wherever Lady Eversleigh went, Carrington's eyes followed her; every wish of hers seemed to be divined by him. If she lingered for a few moments by an open window, Mr. Carrington was at hand with her shawl. If she was reading, and the leaves of her book required to be cut open, the surgeon had procured her a paper-knife before she could suffer inconvenience or delay. If she went to the piano, he was at the instrument before her, ready to adjust her chair, to arrange her music. In another man these attentions might have appeared very common-place, but so quiet of foot, so subdued of voice, was Victor Carrington, that there seemed something stealthy, something secret in his devotion; something which had no right to exist. One long day of patient watchfulness revealed all this to Sir Oswald Eversleigh; and with the revelation came a new and terrible agony.
How far was his wife to blame for all that was exceptional in the surgeon's manner? Was she aware of his devotion? Did she encourage this silent and stealthy worship? She did not, at any rate, discourage it, since she permitted it.
The baronet wondered whether Victor Carrington's manner impressed others as it impressed himself. One person had, he knew, been scandalized by the surgeon's devotion to Lady Eversleigh; and had spoken of it in the plainest terms. But did other eyes see as Lydia Graham and he himself had seen?
He determined on questioning his nephew as to the character of the gentlemanly and accomplished surgeon, whom an impulse of kindness had prompted him to welcome under his roof—an impulse which he now bitterly regretted.
"Your friend, Mr. Carrington, is very attentive to Lady Eversleigh," said Sir Oswald to Reginald, with a pitiable attempt at indifference of manner; "is he generally so devoted in his attention to ladies?"
"On the contrary, my dear uncle," answered Reginald, with an appearance of carelessness which was as well assumed as that of his kinsman was awkward and constrained; "Victor Carrington generally entertains the most profound contempt for the fair sex. He is devoted to the science of chemistry, you know, and in London passes the best part of his life in his laboratory. But then Lady Eversleigh is such a superior person—it is no wonder he admires her."
"He admires her very much, then?"
"Amazingly—if I can judge by what he said when first he became acquainted with her. He has grown more reserved lately."
"Oh, indeed. He has grown more reserved lately, has he?" asked the baronet, whose suspicions were fed by every word his nephew uttered.
"Yes. I suppose he thinks I might take objection to his enthusiastic admiration of Lady Eversleigh. Very absurd of him, is it not? For, of course, my dear uncle, you cannot feel otherwise than proud when you see your beautiful young wife surrounded by worshippers; and one devotee more or less at the shrine can make little difference."