The English physician was consulted; hummed and ha'd a little, prescribed a new tonic; and finding, after a week or two, that this produced no result, and that the pulse was weaker and more fitful, recommended change of air and scene,—a remedy which common-sense might have suggested in the first instance.
"We will start for Cologne to-morrow morning. Tell Target to pack, Clary.
You shall sleep under the shadow of the great cathedral to-morrow night."
Clarissa thanked her father warmly, and then burst into tears.
"Hysteria," murmured the physician.
"I shall get away from that dreadful room," she sobbed, "where I have such hideous dreams;" and then went away to set Jane Target to work.
"I don't quite like the look of that," the doctor said gravely, when she was gone. "Those distressing dreams are a bad sign. But Mrs. Granger is yet very young, and has an excellent constitution, I believe. Change of scene, and the amusement of travelling, may do all we want."
He left Mr. Lovel very thoughtful.
"If she doesn't improve very speedily, I shall telegraph to Granger," he said to himself.
He had no occasion to do this. Daniel Granger, after going half way to Marseilles, with a notion of exploring Algiers and Morocco, had stopped short, and made his way by road and rail—through sirocco, clouds of dust, and much inconvenience—to Liége, where he had lingered to recover and calm himself down a little before going to see his child.
Going to see his child—that was the sole purpose of his journey; not for a moment would he have admitted that it mattered anything to him that he was also going to see his wife.