“My patient, as you call him,” replied Assunta, smiling, “is not quite so submissive, I find, as when obedience was a necessity, and not a virtue. Still, if he would allow me a very humble suggestion, I would remind him that he has not been quite as well to-day, and that it is some time past his usual hour for retiring.”
There was no irritation in Mr. Carlisle's face as he looked at Assunta with one of his rare smiles. The very tones of her voice seemed to give him a feeling of rest. “A very broad hint on the part of my tyrant,” he replied, “which I will be wise enough to take, in its present form, lest it should become more emphatic. Good-night, Mr. Sinclair. I feel that there is the less need of an apology for excusing myself, as I leave you in good hands [pg 242] Clara, when Giovanni has served the tea, please send him to me.”
In leaving the room Mr. Carlisle dropped his cigar-case, which Assunta perceived, and hastened with it to the library, where she knew she should find him awaiting Giovanni.
“Petite,” he exclaimed, as she entered, “kill that man for me, and make me everlastingly your debtor.”
“I am sure,” she answered, laughing, “you have had it all your own way to-night. I began to think he must have taken a vow of silence.”
“Still waters!” said her guardian. “He can afford to be silent; he is biding his time.”
“Are you not the least bit unjust and uncharitable?” asked Assunta. “But never mind, you shall not have a lecture to-night, for you look very weary. Promise me that you will take the medicine I send you.”
“I will take it, if you bring it yourself.”
“But I cannot do that. I have your enemy to entertain, you know.”
“And much joy do I wish you,” said Mr. Carlisle. “I intend to study up affinities and repulsions psychologically; and then I shall perhaps be able to understand why one person, without any assignable cause, should act as a perpetual blister—genuine Spanish flies—and another, a certain dear little friend of mine for instance, should be ever a soothing balm.”