"Who is she?" asked the doctor.
"She is the daughter of Mr. Smith, a merchant from the East."
"Is any one with her?"
"Yes, her father."
"Tell him I will be there immediately."
In the course of fifteen minutes Dr. Elton's carriage drove up to the door of the hotel. He found his patient to be a young lady of about seventeen, accompanied by her father, a middle-aged man, whose feelings were much, and anxiously excited.
At a glance, his practised eye detected symptoms of a serious nature, and a closer examination of the case convinced him that all his skill would be called into requisition. With a hot, dry skin, slightly flushed face, parched lips, and slimy, furred tongue, there was a dejection, languor, and slight indication of delirium—and much apparent confusion of mind. Prescribing as he thought the case required, he left the room, accompanied with the father.
"Well, doctor, what do you think of her?" said Mr. Smith, with a heavy, oppressed expiration.
"She is ill, sir, and will require attention."
"But, doctor, you don't think my child dangerous, do you?" said the father with an alarmed manner.