CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SIXTH.

A NEW PATIENT.

In one sense, time seemed to be standing still with me, so like were the days that followed the one to the other.  But in another sense those days fled with awful swiftness, for they were hurrying us both, my mother and me, to a great gulf which would soon, far too soon, lie between us.

Every afternoon Julia came to spend an hour or two with my mother; but her arrival was always formally announced, and it was an understood thing that I should immediately quit the room, to avoid meeting her.  There was an etiquette in her resentment which I was bound to observe.

What our circle of friends thought, had become a matter of very secondary consideration to me; but there seemed a general disposition to condone my offences, in view of the calamity that was hanging by a mere thread above me.  I discovered from their significant remarks that it had been quite the fashion to visit Sark during the summer, by the Queen of the Isles, which made the passage every Monday; and that Tardif’s cottage had been an object of attraction to many of my relatives of every degree.  Few of them had caught even a glimpse of Olivia; and I suspected that she had kept herself well out of sight on those days when the weekly steamer flooded the island with visitors.

I had not taken up any of my old patients again, for I was determined that everybody should feel that my residence at home was only temporary.  But, about ten days after my return, the following note was brought to me, directed in full to Dr. Martin Dobree: 

“A lady from England, who is only a visitor in Guernsey, will be much obliged by Dr. Martin Dobree calling upon her, at Rose Villa, Vauvert Road.  She is suffering from a slight indisposition; and, knowing Dr. Senior by name and reputation, she would feel great confidence in the skill of Dr. Senior’s friend.”

I wondered for an instant who the stranger could be, and how she knew the Seniors; but, as there could be no answer to these queries without visiting the lady, I resolved to go.  Rose Villa was a house where the rooms were let to visitors during the season, and the Vauvert Road was scarcely five minutes’ walk from our house.  Julia was paying her daily visit to my mother, and I was at a loss for something to do, so I went at once.

I found a very handsome, fine-looking woman; dark, with hair and eyes as black as a gypsy’s, and a clear olive complexion to match.  Her forehead was low, but smooth and well-shaped; and the lower part of her face, handsome as it was, was far more developed than the upper.  There was not a trace of refinement about her features; yet the coarseness of them was but slightly apparent as yet.  She did not strike me as having more than a very slight ailment indeed, though she dilated fluently about her symptoms, and affected to be afraid of fever.  It is not always possible to deny that a woman has a violent headache; but, where the pulse is all right, and the tongue clean, it is clear enough that there is not any thing very serious threatening her.  My new patient did not inspire me with much sympathy; but she attracted my curiosity, and interested me by the bold style of her beauty.