Dr. Jago came to Heron Dyke day after day. In a short while the Squire was walking about the grounds, leaning on Ella's arm or on Hubert Stone's; and he would be seen again driving through Nullington, his niece seated by his side. Ella had grown to think kindly of Dr. Jago; but that old vague feeling of dislike or distrust she could not quite get rid of. "There is a look in his eyes I never saw in the eyes of anyone else," she said to herself. "He interests me, and yet repels me."
"The Squire will last out yet to will away his property; ay, and longer than that," cried the gossips of the neighbourhood, as they watched the improvement in him. "It will take more than two doctors to kill a Denzon."
And thus October came in. About the middle of that month the Squire sent an invitation to Mrs. Carlyon. It was partly in answer to a letter received from her--in which she told them that a certain projected plan of hers, that of going abroad for the winter, was still in abeyance, for she did not much like the idea of going alone. Higson would attend her of course; but who was Higson?--what she needed was a friend.
"She shall take you, Ella," said the Squire, after the letter of invitation was despatched.
"Take me, uncle! Oh dear, no!"
"And why not, pray, when I say yes?"
"I could not leave you, Uncle Gilbert."
"Oh, indeed! Could you not, lassie?"
"Suppose you were to be taken ill--and I ever so many hundred miles away! Oh, uncle dear, how could you think of it!"
"Well, I hope I am not likely now to be taken ill. Jago is doing me a marvellous deal of good. Don't fear that. I should like you to go abroad for the winter, lassie, and if Gertrude Carlyon goes, we--we will see about it."