She pressed his hand, and went quietly away; came back for a moment to pat his arm and say she trusted she had not distressed him, and beg him not to stay out too long in the night air; then went into the house, closing the door softly after her.

Left alone, Geoffrey Strong fell to his pacing again, up and down the neat gravel paths with their tall box hedges. His face was very tender; looking at it, one might know he had been a loving son to his mother.

But presently he frowned over his cigar, and then laughed, and went and shook the unoffending moth (it was a rare one, if he had been thinking of that kind of thing) off the phlox.

"All the more reason, Stupid!" he said to the moth, as it flew away. "A man goes and gets a girl to care for him, and then he goes and plays some fool trick--like as not this chap had his sheet tied--and leaves her alone the rest of her life. Just look at this sweet old angel, will you? it's a shame. No, sir, no woman in mine, thank you!"

He paced again. The moth fluttered off in the gloom; fluttered back, hovered, then settled once more on the milk-white phlox, which glimmered like a fragrant ghost in the half-light. The perfume rose from the flowers and mingled with the delicate scent of the roses and the heavier breath of lilac and syringa.

"'Where I find her not, beauties vanish; Whither I follow her, beauties flee.

Is there no method to tell her in Spanish"--

"Oh, I must be drunk!" said Doctor Geoffrey. He tried another path. A new fragrance met him, the keen, clean, cruelly sweet smell of honeysuckle. Browning was gone with the phlox and the roses; and what was this coming unbidden into his head, crisp and clean and possessing, like the honeysuckle?

"'Where e're she be, That not impossible She Who shall command my life and me"--

"I _am_ drunk!" said Geoffrey Strong. And he threw away his cigar and went to bed.

CHAPTER IV.

MOSTLY PROFESSIONAL.

"I fear Doctor Strong will be very much put out!" said Miss Phoebe Blyth.

Miss Vesta sighed, and stirred her coffee delicately. "It is unfortunate!" she said.

"Unfortunate! my dearest Vesta, it is calamitous. Just when he is comfortably settled in surroundings which he feels to be congenial"--Miss Phoebe bridled, and glanced round the pleasant dining-room--"to have these surroundings invaded by what he dislikes most in the world, a girl, and a sick girl at that; I tell you it would not surprise me if he should give notice at once."

This was not quite true, for Miss Phoebe would have been greatly surprised at Doctor Strong's doing anything of the kind; but she enjoyed saying it, and felt rather better after it.

"We could not possibly refuse, though, Sister Phoebe," said Miss Vesta, mildly. "Little Vesta being my name-child, and Brother Nathaniel without faculty, as one may say,--and it is certainly no place for her at home."

"My dearest Vesta, I have not been entirely deprived of my senses!"

Miss Phoebe spoke with some asperity. "Of course we cannot refuse, and of course we must do our utmost for our brother's motherless child; but none the less, it is calamitous, I repeat; and I am positive that Doctor Strong will be greatly annoyed."

At this moment Geoffrey came in, full of apologies for his ten minutes'

tardiness. The apologies were graciously received. The Miss Blyths would never have thought of such a thing as being late to breakfast themselves, but they were not ill-pleased to have their lodger, occasionally--not too often--sleep beyond the usual hour. It showed that he felt at home, Miss Phoebe said, and Miss Vesta, the mother-instinct brooding over the lad she loved, thought he needed all the sleep he could get, and more.

"It's really disgraceful!" said the young doctor for the third time, as he drew his chair up to the table. "Yes, please, three lumps. There never was such coffee in the world, Miss Blyth. I believe the Sultan sends it to you from his own private coffee-garden. Creamed chicken?

won't I? and m.u.f.fins, and marmalade,--what a blessing to be naturally greedy! More pain this morning, Miss Blyth? I hope not." His quick eye had seen the cloud on his hostess's brow, and he was all attention and sympathy over his coffee-cup.

"I thank you, Doctor Strong; I feel little pain this morning; in fact, I may almost say none. But I--we have been somewhat disturbed by the contents of a letter we have received."

"Bad news?" cried Geoffrey. "I'm so sorry! Is there anything I can do, Miss Blyth? You will command me, of course; send telegrams or--"

"I--thank you! You are always most kind and considerate, Doctor Strong.

The fact is"--Miss Phoebe hesitated, casting about in her mind for the best way of breaking the news,--"the fact is, my brother is a widower."

"Very sad, I'm sure!" murmured Geoffrey Strong. "Was it sudden? these shocks are terribly trying. How did she--"

"Oh--no! you misapprehend me, Doctor Strong. Not sudden, nor--nor what you would call recent. It is some years since Nathaniel's wife died."

"Old gentleman going to pa.s.s away himself?" said Geoffrey, but not aloud; he was aware of his tendency to headlong plunges; it was manifestly better to wait further explanations and not commit himself.

"My brother has an only daughter," Miss Phoebe went on, "a girl of twenty. She has been at college (I strongly disapproved of her going, but the child is headstrong), and has worked beyond her strength.

She--that is, her father, is anxious for her to come and pa.s.s a month or two with us; he thinks the sea air will benefit her."

"No doubt it will!" said Geoffrey, still awaiting the catastrophe. It was a great bore, of course, in fact a nuisance, but it couldn't be helped.

"This--this is what has troubled us, Doctor Strong. We fear, my sister and I, that the presence of a young--person of the other s.e.x--will be disturbing to you."

Miss Vesta looked up quickly, but said nothing. Geoffrey looked bewildered for a moment, then laughed aloud, colouring like a schoolboy. "Why, Miss Blyth, what must you think of me?" he said. "I am not particularly given to--to the society of young ladies, but I am not such a misogynist as all that."

Miss Phoebe did not know what a misogynist was, and did not like to ask; there were so many dangerous and levelling doctrines about, as her father always said. Whatever it was, she was heartily glad that Doctor Strong did not believe in it.

"Vesta is a good child," said Miss Vesta. "She makes no noise or trouble in the house, even when she is well. We shall of course see that your convenience is not interfered with in any way, Doctor Strong."

"If you talk like that, I shall pack my trunk and go to-morrow," said Geoffrey, decidedly; "and I don't want to go a bit. It's I who am likely to be in the way, so far as I can see; but you won't send me off just yet, will you?"

When Geoffrey Strong smiled, people were apt to do what he wished, unless they were ill-conditioned people indeed, and Miss Phoebe and Miss Vesta were far from ill-conditioned.

"I've never been so happy anywhere," the young man went on in his eager way, "since--since my own home was broken up. I'd stay if you would let me, if there were twenty--I--I mean, of course it will be delightful to--may I have another m.u.f.fin, please? Thanks!" Geoffrey had broken short off, being a person of absolute honesty.

"I trust your niece is not seriously out of health," he said, in conclusion, with his most professional air. "Is any malady indicated, or merely overfatigue?"

Miss Phoebe put on her spectacles and took up the letter. "There is a word," she said, "that I did not understand, I must confess. If you will allow me, Doctor Strong, I will read you a portion of my brother's remarks. A--yes! 'Vesta seems very far from well. She cries, and will not eat, and she looks like a ghost. The doctor calls it neurasthenia.'"

Doctor Strong uttered an exclamation. Miss Phoebe looked up in dismay.

"It is nothing contagious, I trust, Doctor Strong?"

"No! no! nothing of the kind. Go on, please! any more symptoms?"

"I think not. She has no appet.i.te, he says, and does not sleep well. He says nothing of any rash." Miss Phoebe looked anxiously at the young doctor. To her amazement, he was leaning forward, m.u.f.fin in hand, his face wearing its brightest and most eager look.

"Is that all?" he said. "Well--of course that's not professional. Very likely the physician there will send a written diagnosis if you ask him. You see, Miss Blyth, this is very interesting to me. I want to make a study of nerves,--that's all the word means, disordered nerves,--and it will be the greatest pleasure to me to try to be of service to your niece; if you should wish it, that is."

"Oh, Doctor Strong! you are _too_ kind!" said both ladies in duet.

They were so relieved, they overflowed in little grateful courtesies.

He must have more cream; he was eating nothing. They feared his egg was not quite--was he positively sure? it would sometimes happen, with the greatest care, that eggs were not quite--a little sc.r.a.p more bacon, then! or would he fancy some fresh cream cheese? and so on and so on, till the young doctor cried out, and said that if he ate any more he should not be able to mount his bicycle, far less ride it.