The colonel and Percy had entered by this time. The traces of tears
were evident on Adela's face, and Percy was eyeing first her and then
Armstrong, with some signs of disquietude. Even during dinner it had
been clear to me that Percy did not like the doctor, and now he was as
evidently jealous of him.
A little general conversation ensued, and the doctor took his
leave. The colonel followed him to the door. I would gladly have done
so too, but I remained in the drawing-room. All that passed between
them was:
"Will you oblige me by calling on Sunday morning, half an hour before
church-time, colonel?"
"With pleasure."
"Will you come with me, Smith?" asked my friend, after informing me of
the arrangement.
"Don't you think I might be in the way?"
"Not at all. I am getting old and stupid. I should like you to come
and take care of me. He won't do Adela any good, I fear."
"Why do you think so?"
"He has a depressing effect on her already. She is sure not to like
him. She was crying when I came into the room after dinner."
"Tears are not grief," I answered; "nor only the signs of grief, when
they do indicate its presence. They are a relief to it as well. But I
cannot help thinking there was some pleasure mingled with those tears,
for he had been playing very delightfully.
Pages:
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81