Margaret Capel, vol. 2. Ellen Wallace

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СКАЧАТЬ cough." And Mrs. Fitzpatrick fixed her black eyes upon Mr. Lindsay's immoveable countenance, with a scrutiny that it was not easy to avoid.

      "I wish you would not feel my pulse, doctor," said Aveline, using a term she often playfully applied to Mr. Lindsay. "It always makes me faint."

      "There then," said he removing his fingers, "you have not left any of your fancies behind you. I wish you had, or your cough!"

      "You despise foreigners almost as much as Mrs. Grant," said Aveline laughing; "but you cannot deny that I have gained a great deal by my absence."

      "Gained. Yes; an inch or more. Were you not tall enough before you went?" said Mr. Lindsay, surveying her from head to foot.

      "You are as tiresome as ever," said Aveline. "I have gained strength, spirits, and appetite!"

      "What did you eat for breakfast?" asked Mr. Lindsay suddenly.

      "Oh! breakfast. That is never a good meal with me. I could eat half a chicken for dinner," said Aveline, still laughing.

      "Well, I suppose you want me to send you some medicine," said Mr. Lindsay, taking up his hat; "people are never contented without it, whether they need it or not."

      "But do I not need it?" asked Aveline.

      "No."

      "What shall I take for my cough then?"

      "Cherries, shrimps, tamarinds, whatever you like."

      "And why are you running away?"

      "Because I am going to see a woman who really wants me and my physic."

      "Anybody I know?"

      "A Mrs. Brand. I cannot tell how far your circle of acquaintance may extend."

      "To be sure I know her. Brand's wife mamma! She is always sickly. Do you think her worse?"

      "Why, yes—rather."

      "And will she get well?"

      "Perhaps. I am doubtful about it."

      "Oh, dear! with all those poor little children."

      "She would be much more likely to get well without the poor little children."

      "And what could we send her that would be of use?"

      "Chicken broth, port wine, brandy, if she could keep it from her husband."

      "Oh, yes! he is a very good man. He never drinks."

      "Excellent. Good bye to you," and the doctor stepped out upon the terrace. Mrs. Fitzpatrick followed him.

      "What do you think of her, Mr. Lindsay?" she asked.

      "I hardly know yet. I am not quite satisfied with her pulse; but I must see her when she has recovered the fatigue of her journey."

      "And have you no advice to give me in the meantime?"

      "Care—care—care. You know my axiom," said the doctor as he mounted his horse. "A better one I warrant, than that of Demosthenes."

      "But you are really oracular this morning."

      "Keep her mind quiet," said Mr. Lindsay gathering up the bridle, "and if she cries for the moon, let her have it."

      And having given utterance to this easy and infallible receipt, galloped off. Yes, it was very pleasant to be told that she must keep her daughter's mind quiet, when she had just learned that Aveline was engaged in one long hopeless struggle against an attachment that had never been declared, or sought, or requited.

      It had often crossed her mind at Sorrento, that Mr. Haveloc must admire her daughter; but she had never alluded to the subject, even in jest; because hers was a mind to treat all grave matters gravely; and because she did not think it very conducive to the delicacy of a young girl to jest with her upon the impression she might have made upon a man, particularly while the fact was yet uncertain. And she believed that Aveline never gave him a thought; nor did she herself, farther than she need, take any trouble to keep them out of each other's way, because there would be no reason to object to it, if they should take a fancy to each other.

      How deeply she repented of her blindness; how bitterly she recalled the frequent morning walks, the sketching, the sailing parties; from which, indeed, she could hardly have excluded Mr. Haveloc, all things considered; but from which she might have contrived to omit Aveline. She gazed down the rough pathway from which Mr. Lindsay had long vanished, and again repeated to herself, "Keep her mind quiet!"

      CHAPTER IV

      They ben so well thewed and so wise

      Whatever that good old man bespake.

SPENSER.

      Might'st thou perceive austerely in his eye

      That he did plead in earnest, yea or no?

      Look'd he, or red, or pale, or sad, or merrily?

      What observation mad'st thou in this case.

SHAKESPEARE.

      Nothing more endeared Margaret to her uncle, than the manner in which she took Mr. Haveloc's departure.

      A little more grave, a little more silent than usual, she seemed only solicitous that Mr. Grey should not miss his companionship more than could be helped. She had not an instant's fear that his affection would undergo any change; her regrets at parting with him were unmixed with doubt for the future; they were simply those of separating for so long from a person whom she loved.

      One evening, when she was leaning upon Mr. Grey's arm-chair, placed as usual at the window, with the moonlight streaming over the grounds, much as when she had taken her last walk upon the terrace with Mr. Haveloc, her uncle seemed to think he might touch upon the subject without exciting her feelings too painfully.

      "You are thinking of Claude, my love," said he taking her hand which rested on the back of his chair, and drawing it down over his shoulder.

      "Yes uncle," said Margaret.

      "Very natural," returned Mr. Grey. "I dare say he is thinking of you."

      "I think he is," replied Margaret quietly.

      "He agreed not to write to you, you know, my dear," said her uncle; "but I promised him one thing which might look like an infringement of our compact. If my health should become materially worse, a letter directed to Tynebrook will be forwarded to him, wherever he may be, and he will come to us immediately; so that if I should be too ill to write, Margaret, you will know what to do. It is right if you are deprived of one protector, that I should procure you another."

      "Oh! uncle, if you would not talk—if you would not imagine such things," said Margaret, melting into tears.

      "Well, my dear child, I will not say any more about it; we will change the subject. What do you think? The last night Claude was with me, I told him that it was my intention to leave my estate, with some few reservations, to you. Well—but don't cry at that, my child: I never heard that any man died the sooner for making his will. But Claude decidedly opposed my intention; he said, his own fortune was so ample as to make so large an addition to it quite unnecessary; that he disapproved the plan of heaping up those immense properties; that my estate would be the means СКАЧАТЬ