The doctor slackened the reins until they rested on the dashboard, and with a quick movement turned half around and looked searchingly into Jane’s eyes.

“It is serious, then.  What has happened?”

“Only a letter from Lucy.”

“Is she coming home?”

“No, she is going to be married.”

The doctor gave a low whistle.  Instantly Archie’s laughing eyes looked into his; then came the thought of the nameless grave of his father.

“Well, upon my soul!  You don’t say so!  Who to, pray?”

“To a Frenchman.”  Jane’s eyes were upon his, reading the effect of her news.  His tone of surprise left an uncomfortable feeling behind it.

“How long has she known him?” he continued, tightening the reins again and chirruping to the mare..

“She does not say—­not long, I should think.”

“What sort of a Frenchman is he?  I’ve known several kinds in my life—­so have you, no doubt,” and a quiet smile overspread his face.  “Come, Bess!  Hurry up, old girl.”

“A gentleman, I should think, from what she writes.  He is much older than Lucy, and she says very well off.”

“Then you didn’t meet him on the other side?”

“And never heard of him before?”

“Not until I received this letter.”

The doctor reached for his whip and flecked off a fly that had settled on the mare’s neck.

“Lucy is about twenty-seven, is she not?”

“Yes, some eight years younger than I am.  Why do you ask, John?”

“Because it is always a restless age for a woman.  She has lost the protecting ignorance of youth and she has not yet gained enough of the experience of age to steady her.  Marriage often comes as a balance-weight.  She is coming home to be married, isn’t she?”

“No; they are to be married in Geneva at his mother’s.”

“I think that part of it is a mistake,” he said in a decided tone.  “There is no reason why she should not be married here; she owes that to you and to herself.”  Then he added in a gentler tone, “And this worries you?”

“More than I can tell you, John.”  There was a note in her voice that vibrated through him.  He knew now how seriously the situation affected her.

“But why, Jane?  If Lucy is happier in it we should do what we can to help her.”

“Yes, but not in this way.  This will make her all the more miserable.  I don’t want this marriage; I want her to come home and live with me and Archie.  She makes me promises every year to come, and now it is over six years since I left her and she has always put me off.  This marriage means that she will never come.  I want her here, John.  It is not right for her to live as she does.  Please think as I do!”

The doctor patted Jane’s hand—­it was the only mark of affection he ever allowed himself—­not in a caressing way, but more as a father would pat the hand of a nervous child.