To her husband's
annoyance she begged him to wait, and on one pretext or another put off
the consultation--it would do in a week, or 'she was better.' Her
postponement and lack of decision added to the Squire's distress, but it
was mid-June before she finally yielded and without a word to Penhallow
wrote to ask McGregor to call.
In a week Leila would be at Grey Pine. The glad prospect of a summer's
leisure filled John with happy anticipations. He had his boat put in
order, looked after Lucy's condition, and had in mind a dozen plans for
distant long-desired rides into the mountains, rides which now his uncle
had promised to take with them. He soon learned that the medical
providence which so often interferes with our plans in life had to be
considered.
Mrs. Penhallow to John's surprise had of late gone to bed long before her
accustomed hour, and one evening in this June of 1857 Penhallow seeing
her go upstairs at nine o'clock called John into the library.
"Mr. Rivers," he said, "has gone to see some one in Westways, and I have
a chance to talk to you. Sit down."
John obeyed, missing half consciously the ever-ready smile of the Squire.
"I am troubled about your aunt. Dr. McGregor assures me that she has no
distinct ailment, but is simply so tired that she is sure to become ill
if she stays at home.
Pages:
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277