The doctor’s first introduction to the flying Margaret is well known to the reader. His knowledge of her under those circumstances made him feel for her; but there were some questions he wished to put to her, as his curiosity had been excited by what Robin had revealed. The farmer had already given him some hint about her confessions; but the doctor wanted to find out whether, after what had taken place that night, the tide of her affections might not have turned a little toward his patient. It was a delicate question to ask, but he thought he would find it out by another plan; so he desired to see Margaret in the parlour before he left the house.
“I did not half like your look, my girl, when I first saw you to-night. Come hither; let me feel your pulse: let me look at your tongue. Your pulse is quick, and you’ve some fever hanging about you.”
“I thank you, sir, I shall be better to-morrow. I’m very sorry for what has happened.”
“You could not help it, my girl—you could not help it; it was not your fault.”
“I don’t know that, sir,—I don’t know that. I blame myself much; but—but—”
“But you don’t like to blame anybody else, Margaret; I know you.”
“Well, sir, that’s the truth; but yet he was to blame.”
“Who? Barry?”
“No, sir, no; but he who shot him.”