Mr. Rutledge smiled at the analogy I seemed to trace.
"I don't altogether fancy the man myself, but one must not be too readily influenced by fancies; no doubt he's very good in his way, and seems to be much more of a physician than old Sartain. It's a bad way to expect too much of people, and I hope you'll never get as much in the habit of it as I have always been."
With that he dismissed the subject, and presently pointing to the seat beside him, told me I need not think of saying good night yet, as he had a great deal to say to me. Without much reluctance, I sat down, and listened submissively.
"In the first place, you have not asked what your aunt says to this new delay."
"Well, what does she say?" I asked, a little uneasily.
"She says, that unless you arrive very shortly at New York, she shall feel herself obliged to leave all her pressing household cares, sick children, undisciplined servants, and come on for you in person."
"It's a new thing for her to be so anxious about me," I exclaimed, impatiently. "I was sick a month last summer at school, and she never suggested the idea of coming on to see me."
"Be that as it may, her anxiety at present knows no bounds, and I have in vain rendered the most elaborate accounts of your state, and in all ways endeavored to weaken her fears. This very afternoon I received another letter, more decided than the last in its request, that if you were able to be moved, you might be brought on immediately; if not, she would at once start for this place, and my answer was to be instantly communicated to her by telegraph."
"You have sent it?"
"Yes, three hours ago," he answered, looking at me attentively.