"How old is Miss Gabrielle?" I asked.
"She will be fifteen her next birthday," replied her mother.
All the while Mrs. Heathcote was speaking, the young daughter kept her eyes fixed on the carpet—she still twirled the paper-knife, and once or twice she yawned profoundly.
I asked her to prepare for the usual medical examination. She complied without any alacrity, and with a look on her face which said plainly, "Young as I am, I know how useless all this fuss is—I only submit because I must."
I felt her pulse and sounded her heart and lungs. The action of the heart was a little weak, but the lungs were perfectly healthy. In short, beyond a general physical and mental debility, I could find nothing whatever the matter with the girl.
After a time, I rang the bell to desire my servant to take Miss Heathcote into another room, in order that I might speak to her mother alone.
The young lady went away very unwillingly. The sceptical expression on her face was more apparent than ever.
"You will be sure to tell me the exact truth?" said Mrs. Heathcote, as soon as we were alone.
"I have very little to tell," I replied. "I have examined your daughter carefully. She is suffering from no disease to which a name can be attached. She is below par, certainly; there is weakness and general depression, but a tonic ought to set all these matters right."
"I have tried tonics without avail," said Mrs. Heathcote.