“O, Maria is happy enough with us, I hope,” said the doctor cheerily. “We are all fond of her when she is reasonable. But it is time she went to her dinner. A rivederci, signora.”
Maria accepted her dismissal with a good grace, saluted Mildred and the doctor with her stage curtsy, and withdrew. One side of Monsieur Leroy’s house opened into the garden, the other into a courtyard adjoining the high-road.
“Poor soul! I should be so glad to pay for a piano and a private sitting-room for her, if I might be allowed to do so,” said Mildred, when the singer was gone.
“You are too generous, madame; but I doubt if it would be good for her to accept your bounty. She enjoys the occasional use of my piano intensely. If she had one always at her command, she would give up her life to music, which exercises too strong an influence upon her disordered brain to be indulged in ad libitum. Nor would a private apartment be an advantage in her case. She is too much given to brooding over past griefs; and the society of her fellow-sufferers, the friction and movement of the public life, are good for her.”
“What did she mean by her talk of an English girl—some story of wrong-doing? Was it all imaginary?”
“I believe there was some scandal at Milan; some flirtation, or possibly an intrigue, between Castellani and one of his English pupils; but I never heard the details. Maria’s jealousy would be likely to exaggerate the circumstances; for I believe she adored her cousin to the last, long after she knew that he had never cared for her, except as an element in his success.”
Mildred took leave of the doctor, after thanking him for his politeness. She left a handful of gold for the benefit of the poor patients, and left Dr. Leroy under the impression that she was one of the sweetest women he had ever met. Her pensive beauty, her low and musical voice, the clear and resolute purpose of every word and look, were in his mind indications of the perfection of womanhood.
“It is not often that Nature achieves such excellence,” mused the doctor. “It is a pity that perfection should be short-lived; yet I cannot prognosticate length of years for this lady.”
Pamela’s spirits were decidedly improving. She talked all dinner-time, and gave a graphic description of her afternoon in the tennis-court behind the Cercle de la Méditerranée.