It was a mild December afternoon; a red wintry sun hung over the little garden; a faint crescent moon rose behind the trees; underneath the window a few chrysanthemums shed a soft blur of violet and dull crimson; a slight wind stirred the hair from Mildred's temples, showing a streak of gray; but worn and thin as she looked, Dr. Blenkinsop thought he had never seen a face that pleased him better.
'What a Sister of Mercy she would make,' he often thought; 'if I know anything of human nature, this woman has known a great sorrow; she has been taught patience in a rough school; no matter how that boy tries her, she has always a cheerful answer ready for him.'
Dr. Blenkinsop was in rather a bad humour this afternoon, a fact that was often patent enough to his patients, whom he was given to treat on such occasions with some brusquerie; but with all his oddities and contradictions, they dearly loved him.
'I can't make him out at all,' he repeated, irritably, feeling his iron-gray whiskers, a trick of his when anything discomposed him; 'there is no fault to find with his constitution; he has had a sharp bout of illness, brought on, as far as I can make out, by his own imprudence, and just as he has turned the corner nicely, and seems doing us all credit, he declines to make any further progress!'
'But he is really better, Dr. Blenkinsop; he coughs far less, and his sleep is less broken; he has no appetite, certainly, but——' Mildred stopped. She thought herself that Roy had been losing ground lately.
Dr. Blenkinsop fairly growled,—he had little sharp white teeth that showed almost savagely when he was in one of his surly moods.
'These lymphatic natures are the worst to combat, they succumb so readily to weakness and depression; he certainly seems more languid to-day, and there are feverish indications. He has got nothing on his mind, eh?'—turning round so abruptly that Mildred was put out of countenance.
She hesitated.
'Humph!' was his next observation, 'I thought as much. Of course it is none of my concern, but when I see my patient losing ground without any visible cause, one begins to ask questions. That young lady who assists in the nursing—do you think her presence advisable, eh?'—with another sharp glance at Mildred.
'She is his adopted sister—she is engaged,' stammered Mildred, not willing to betray the lad's secret. 'They are very fond of each other.'