I rose also. I was loth to leave the presence of this charming girl, who was undoubtedly my bride, but who, it appeared, was entirely unconscious of the fact. Yet the woman who had called me in for consultation, and had acted so strangely that it almost seemed as though she had fallen in love with me, had pointedly dismissed me; therefore I was compelled to take my leave.
“I hope, Doctor, that we shall see something more of you on our return to town,” her ladyship said, as we shook hands. “Recollect our conversation of this morning,” she added meaningly.
“Of course I shall be most delighted to call and see how you have progressed,” I responded. “You have the prescription, and I hope you will persevere with it.”
“If I feel worse.” She laughed, and I knew that she did not mean to have the mixture made up. She had shammed illness very cleverly. I was amused and annoyed at the same moment.
“I hope Doctor Colkirk will dine with us here one evening,” said the woman who was my bride. “I’m sure Sir Henry would be charmed to meet him.”
“Yes,” answered her cousin; “only he must not know that I have consulted him professionally. That must be kept a secret.”
“All women love secrets,” I remarked.
“And men also,” responded Feo. “Some appear to think that a little mystery adds an additional zest to life.”
Her words were strange ones, and seemed to have been uttered with some abstruse meaning.
“Do you yourself think so?” I inquired, looking earnestly into those bright eyes of clear, childlike blue, that were so plainly indicative of a purity of soul.