“Yes, I understand,” agreed Mrs. Horton, nodding significantly, “I think that my health will not permit me to start for a couple of weeks. But, really, have n’t you noticed, Lucy, what a deliciously wholesome foreign air there is about this place? With Lady Avondale and the charming countess here I could almost fancy that we were again in dear old England.”
“On, it is perfectly lovely,” rejoined Mrs. Osborn. “Dr. Lenox Avondale has invited me to go rowing this evening, and I certainly shall not miss the opportunity of pressing upon him the superiority of dear Ethel.”
“It is so good of you,” lisped Mrs. J. Bruce-Horton, “to take such a deep interest in the child. She is inclined to be rather wilful, and perhaps a little headstrong, but, by judicious management, I am sure that we can overcome her silly, girlish ideas.”
That afternoon Doctor Redfield called and found that Mrs. J. Bruce-Horton was very desirous that he should advise their remaining longer at the lake. He was not slow in making the suggestion. He wondered a little at the peculiar turn that affairs had taken, and the sudden attachment of his patient for Lake Geneva. However, he rightly attributed it to the presence of the English guests. When he left Ethel on the evening before, a strange feeling had come to him. He longed to see her, and he wondered if an hour of tender confidences would ever again be theirs. He remembered the pressure of the girl’s warm hand. It had thrilled him. Leaving the hotel in the afternoon, he hesitated a moment on the veranda in an uncertain frame of mind. Then he walked briskly down a path leading through a dense wood that shaded the shore of the lake. An hour afterward he returned to the hotel, he having seen nothing of Ethel. On taking his leave, he saw Dr. Lenox Avondale, accompanied by Mrs. Lyman Osborn and Ethel, going toward the boat-house. Ethel recognized him, and he fancied that there was a warmth in her smile as she bowed.
Thus matters went on, day after day, for several weeks, until Mrs. Horton was pronounced entirely recovered. “We shall be leaving in a day or two,” she observed to Doctor Redfield, “and, thanks to your skill, I am quite myself again.”
When Jack had gone, Mrs. Osborn looked knowingly at Mrs. Horton, and said, “I think it is just as well that Doctor Redfield is not coming any more. Ethel has spoken several times of him, and has really exhibited more interest in him than I like.”
“There is certainly no sentiment in Ethel,” replied Mrs. J. Bruce-Horton, “and I feel sure, from what I have said to her, that she is favorably impressed with Dr. Lenox Avondale—still, one cannot be too careful.”
While these two friends were thus plotting together, Dr. Jack Redfield was strolling along the beach with Ethel. His daily professional visits had been brightened with the anticipation of seeing her, and his heart had been gladdened by the belief that she, too, had looked forward, with more than passing interest, to his coming.
There are natures that blend and harmonize instantly. Friends are discovered—not manufactured or purchased, and congenial souls recognize one another by the restful influence that each imparts to the other. Ethel Horton and Dr. Jack Redfield each felt this kindred bond of sympathy and mutual discovery. When such souls meet, they defy all social customs.
“I don’t know,” Ethel was saying, naively, “why your visits give me so much pleasure. Am I too frank in saying this?”