“The greatest man we have!” Mr. Null asserted in his most positive manner.
She silently determined to wait until Doctor Benjulia arrived.
“What is the last news of Mr. Ovid?” she said to him, after an interval of consideration.
He told her the news, in the fewest words possible. Even he observed that it seemed to excite her.
“Oh, Mr. Null! who is to prepare him for what he will see in that room? Who is to tell him what he must hear of his mother?”
There was a certain familiarity in the language of this appeal, which Mr. Null felt it necessary to discourage. “The matter is left in my hands,” he announced. “I shall telegraph to him at Queenstown. When he comes home, he will find my prescriptions on the table. Being a medical man himself, my treatment of the case will tell Mr. Ovid Vere everything.”
The obstinate insensibility of his tone stopped her on the point of saying what Mr. Mool had said already. She, too, felt for Ovid, when she thought of the cruel brevity of a telegram. “At what date will the vessel reach Queenstown?” she asked.
“By way of making sure,” said Mr. Null, “I shall telegraph in a week’s time.”
She troubled him with no more inquiries. He had purposely remained standing, in the expectation that she would take the hint, and go; and he now walked to the window, and looked out. She remained in her chair, thinking. In a few minutes more, there was a heavy step on the stairs. Benjulia had arrived.
He looked hard at Miss Minerva, in unconcealed surprise at finding her in the house. She rose, and made an effort to propitiate him by shaking hands. “I am very anxious,” she said gently, “to hear your opinion.”