One day, after watching him a long time unseen, she got excited, put on her shawl and bonnet, and ran down to him:  she took him by the arm:  “If you love me, come out of this prison, and walk with me; we are too miserable.  I shall be your first patient if this goes on much longer.”  He looked at her, saw she was very excited, and had better be humored; so he kissed her and just said, with a melancholy smile, “How poor are they that have not patience!” Then he put on his hat, and walked in the Park and Kensington Gardens with her.  The season was just beginning.  There were carriages enough, and gay Amazons enough, to make poor Rosa sigh more than once.

Christopher heard the sigh; and pressed her arm, and said, “Courage, love, I hope to see you among them yet.”

“The sooner the better,” said she, a little hardly.

“And, meantime, which of them all is as beautiful as you?”

“All I know is, they are more attractive.  Who looks at me, walking tamely by?”

Christopher said nothing:  but these words seemed to imply a thirst for admiration, and made him a little uneasy.

By and by the walk put the swift-changing Rosa in spirits, and she began to chat gayly, and hung prattling and beaming on her husband’s arm, when they entered Curzon Street.  Here, however, occurred an incident, trifling in itself, but unpleasant.  Dr. Staines saw one of his best Kentish patients get feebly out of his carriage, and call on Dr. Barr.  He started, and stopped.  Rosa asked what was the matter.  He told her.  She said, “We are unfortunate.”

Staines said nothing; he only quickened his pace; but he was greatly disturbed.  She expected him to complain that she had dragged him out, and lost him that first chance.  But he said nothing.  When they got home, he asked the servant had anybody called.

“No, Sir.”

“Surely you are mistaken, Jane.  A gentleman in a carriage!”

“Not a creature have been since you went out, sir.”

“Well, then, dearest,” said he sweetly, “we have nothing to reproach ourselves with.”  Then he knit his brow gloomily.  “It is worse than I thought.  It seems even one’s country patients go to another doctor when they visit London.  It is hard.  It is hard.”

Rosa leaned her head on his shoulder, and curled round him, as one she would shield against the world’s injustice; but she said nothing; she was a little frightened at his eye that lowered, and his noble frame that trembled a little, with ire suppressed.

Two days after this, a brougham drove up to the door, and a tallish, fattish, pasty-faced man got out, and inquired for Dr. Staines.

He was shown into the dining-room, and told Jane he had come to consult the doctor.

Rosa had peeped over the stairs, all curiosity; she glided noiselessly down, and with love’s swift foot got into the yard before Jane.  “He is come! he is come!  Kiss me.”