"Proceed, sir," said the stranger, coldly. "I am always ready to listen to the son of Sir George F——, for I owe to the father some obligation."
"You possess the power of allaying the most tormenting sickness by some mysterious drug or preparation," I said, hesitating as I spoke: "that was no common cigar. Have you other remedies?"
"A thousand," replied the stranger. "Pray go on."
"My mother lies dangerously ill; can you restore her?"
"May I behold the patient?" demanded the stranger, and an inexpressible glance flashed from his brilliant eyes.
What made me tremble at this natural request? for such it might have been deemed, since every medical man has free liberty to inquire into the symptoms of the case before he prescribes.
Fixedly did his eyes rest on mine; they seemed as if turned to stone, for they moved not in the slightest degree.
"I will describe my mother's case to you, sir," I said, evasively.
He made me no answer; but, casting down his eyes, he calmly resumed his reading, and I walked up and down the spacious apartment, in which there were not above a dozen other persons, in a state of mind resembling a chaos, occasionally glancing with angry eyes at the reading stranger, who seemed perfectly composed, and unconscious of my presence.
"What a fool am I!" said I, mentally; "what harm can this man do my dying mother? but, then, she may see him—this being that resembles a demi-god—and she too of so peculiar a mind, so enamoured of all that is great and wonderful; so romantic, too! Wretch that I am! is my beloved mother's life to be sacrificed—at least the chance of saving her—to a wild and jealous fantasy? No!" and I walked up again to the table.