"Doctor Moffatt has ordered Phil and me away, for three months," he
said, after Mrs. Jerviss had inquired particularly concerning his
health and Phil's.
"Three months!" she exclaimed with an accent of dismay. "But you'll be
back," she added, recovering herself quickly, "before the vacation
season opens?"
"Oh, certainly; we shall not leave the country."
"Where are you going?"
"The doctor has prescribed the pine woods. I shall visit my old home,
where I was born. We shall leave in a day or two."
"You must dine with me to-morrow," she said warmly, "and tell me about
your old home. I haven't had an opportunity to thank you for making me
rich, and I want your advice about what to do with the money; and I'm
tiring you now when you ought to be resting."
"Do not hurry," he said. "It is almost a pleasure to be weak and
helpless, since it gives me the privilege of a visit from you."
She lingered a few moments and then went. She was the embodiment of
good taste and knew when to come and when to go.
Mr. French was conscious that her visit, instead of tiring him, had
had an opposite effect; she had come and gone like a pleasant breeze,
bearing sweet odours and the echo of distant music. Her shapely hand,
when it had touched his own, had been soft but firm; and he had almost
wished, as he held it for a moment, that he might feel it resting on
his still somewhat fevered brow. When he came back from the South, he
would see a good deal of her, either at the seaside, or wherever she
might spend the summer.
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