Again fell the appealing accent, and at the same instant she left her chair, and came and sat on the stool at my feet.
I liked her. It is not a declaration I have often made concerning my acquaintance, in the course of this book: the reader will bear with it for once. Intimate intercourse, close inspection, disclosed in Paulina only what was delicate, intelligent, and sincere; therefore my regard for her lay deep. An admiration more superficial might have been more demonstrative; mine, however, was quiet.
"What have you to ask of Lucy?" said I; "be brave, and speak out"
But there was no courage in her eye; as it met mine, it fell; and there was no coolness on her cheek--not a transient surface-blush, but a gathering inward excitement raised its tint and its temperature.
"Lucy, I do wish to know your thoughts of Dr. Bretton. Do, do give me your real opinion of his character, his disposition."
"His character stands high, and deservedly high."
"And his disposition? Tell me about his disposition," she urged; "you know him well."
"I know him pretty well."
"You know his home-side. You have seen him with his mother; speak of him as a son."
"He is a fine-hearted son; his mother's comfort and hope, her pride and pleasure."
She held my hand between hers, and at each favourable word gave it a little caressing stroke.
"In what other way is he good, Lucy?"
"Dr. Bretton is benevolent--humanely disposed towards all his race, Dr. Bretton would have benignity for the lowest savage, or the worst criminal."
"I heard some gentlemen, some of papa's friends, who were talking about him, say the same. They say many of the poor patients at the hospitals, who tremble before some pitiless and selfish surgeons, welcome him."
"They are right; I have witnessed as much. He once took me over a hospital; I saw how he was received: your father's friends are right."
The softest gratitude animated her eye as she lifted it a moment. She had yet more to say, but seemed hesitating about time and place. Dusk was beginning to reign; her parlour fire already glowed with twilight ruddiness; but I thought she wished the room dimmer, the hour later.
"How quiet and secluded we feel here!" I remarked, to reassure her.
"Do we? Yes; it is a still evening, and I shall not be called down to tea; papa is dining out."
Still holding my hand, she played with the fingers unconsciously, dressed them, now in her own rings, and now circled them with a twine of her beautiful hair; she patted the palm against her hot cheek, and at last, having cleared a voice that was naturally liquid as a lark's, she said:-"You must think it rather strange that I should talk so much about Dr. Bretton, ask so many questions, take such an interest, but--".