“Your daughter has no specific disease, Mr. Chadwick, she is simply love-sick.”
“L-love-s-sick?”
“Yes; and her secret passion is consuming her. Medicine cannot save the patient’s life if her affection be not returned, and that right speedily.”
Mr. Chadwick was aghast.
“I feared as much,” said Mrs. Chadwick, with a sigh.
“Then you will have an inkling who is the desired object?” said the doctor.
“I think so.”
“Does your maternal instinct point to Mr. Clegg?” he asked, with a curious look.
“It does; but he himself has no suspicion, and I am sure regards Ellen only as a friend—a friend elevated a little above him.”