[CHAPTER XI.]
TO FORGET THE LURING BLUE EYES.
"Droop and darken, eyes of blue,
Love hath only tears for you;
Love, begone, and lightly flee,
Since thy smiles are not for me!
Lips of scarlet, quench your fire,
Torches vain of love's desire;
Love, begone, and lightly flee,
Since thy sweets are not for me!"
But Precious improved too slowly to please the careful doctor.
The long fast and the subsequent shock had told severely on her young frame, and it was almost the last of March when she was able to come out of her room. Then she looked too thin, too frail, too lily-like, to please those who loved her best.
"Mrs. Winans, you must take her away from Washington to the country; she needs mountain air," said Doctor Heron.
"Oh, doctor, what an idea! Leave Washington before the season is over! How can you tell mamma that?" pouted Ethel.
The selfish, dark-eyed beauty had resumed all the gayeties of the brilliant Washington season as soon as her sister was declared out of danger, and dragged her gentle, yielding mother day after day from receptions to balls, from dinners to operas. Ethel was a belle, and would not yield her scepter; so Norah nursed the sick girl; and the mother who, because she loved Precious best, indulged Ethel most, followed with a sad heart into scenes of revelry, leaving her tenderest thoughts at home.
So Ethel was almost indignant when the physician ordered Mrs. Winans to the mountains with her ailing daughter.
At the proud beauty's protest Doctor Heron smiled and answered carelessly: