Mr. Huntress caught it, and a dusky flush mounted to his forehead.
“Leave this house instantly!” he commanded, unable to control himself any longer in the face of such effrontery.
“I could not think of it, sir,” Everet quietly replied, and composedly seating himself by a window. “My place is beside my wife, and here I shall stay until she shall be able to accompany me elsewhere.”
What Mr. Huntress would have done next it is impossible to say, but before he could even reply, the door opened and Doctor Hoyt entered.
“What am I wanted for? Bless me! what does this mean?” he exclaimed, glancing about him with undisguised astonishment, and perceiving the condition of the newly made bride.
“Gladys was taken ill immediately upon returning from the church,” Mr. Huntress hastened to explain, suddenly bethinking himself that it would be wise to avoid a scandal, at least until he could take legal advice and see what hope there was of a release for Gladys from the hateful bonds that bound her.
“Ah, yes—a protracted swoon, caused by excitement or some sudden shock,” said the energetic little doctor, with a professional air, as he took one of the limp, white hands that lay on Gladys’ still breast, and felt for the pulse.
He could not find any, nor was there any movement about the heart, and he began to look very grave.
“She must be put to bed immediately, and there must be perfect quiet throughout the house,” he said. “Huntress, you must explain this to your guests, and get them away as soon as possible. It is unfortunate, but I won’t answer for the consequences if there is any confusion when she comes to herself. Here madame,” to Mrs. Huntress, “get this finery off her head and loosen her corsage, and you, sir,” to Everet, whom he supposed to be Geoffrey, “unlace those pretty number twos, and give the blood a chance to circulate in her feet.”
His coming seemed to put life and confidence into the nearly distracted parents.