"You know that Mr. Armadale is alive," pursued the doctor, "and you know that he is coming back to England. Why do you continue to wear your widow's dress?"She answered him without an instant's hesitation, steadily going on with her work.
"Because I am of a sanguine disposition, like you. I mean to trust to the chapter of accidents to the very last. Mr. Armadale may die yet, on his way home.""And suppose he gets home alive--what then?""Then there is another chance still left.""What is it, pray?"
"He may die in your Sanitarium."
"Madam!" remonstrated the doctor, in the deep bass which he reserved for his outbursts of virtuous indignation. "Wait! you spoke of the chapter of accidents," he resumed, gliding back into his softer conversational tones. "Yes! yes! of course. Iunderstand you this time. Even the healing art is at the mercy of accidents; even such a Sanitarium as mine is liable to be surprised by Death. Just so! just so!" said the doctor, conceding the question with the utmost impartiality. "There _is_ the chapter of accidents, I admit --if you choose to trust to it.
Mind! I say emphatically, _if_ you choose to trust to it."There was another moment of silence--silence so profound that nothing was audible in the room but the rapid _click_ of Miss Gwilt's needle through her work.
"Go on," she said; "you haven't done yet.""True!" said the doctor. "Having put my question, I have my measure of precaution to impress on you next. You will see, my dear madam, that I am not disposed to trust to the chapter of accidents on my side. Reflection has convinced me that you and Iare not (logically speaking) so conveniently situated as we might be in case of emergency. Cabs are, as yet, rare in this rapidly improving neighborhood. I am twenty minutes' walk from you; you are twenty minutes' walk from me. I know nothing of Mr.
Armadale's character; you know it well. It might be necessary--vitally necessary--to appeal to your superior knowledge of him at a moment's notice. And how am I to do that unless we are within easy reach of each other, under the same roof? In both our interests, I beg to invite you, my dear madam, to become for a limited period an inmate of My Sanitarium."Miss Gwilt's rapid needle suddenly stopped. "I understand you,"she said again, as quietly as before.
"I beg your pardon," said the doctor, with another attack of deafness, and with his hand once more at his ear.
She laughed to herself--a low, terrible laugh, which startled even the doctor into taking his hand off the back of her chair.
"An inmate of your Sanitarium?" she repeated. "You consult appearances in everything else; do you propose to consult appearances in receiving me into your house?""Most assuredly!" replied the doctor, with enthusiasm. "I am surprised at your asking me the question! Did you ever know a man of any eminence in my profession who set appearances at defiance?
If you honor me by accepting my invitation, you enter My Sanitarium in the most unimpeachable of all possible characters--in the character of a Patient.""When do you want my answer?"
"Can you decide to-day?"
"To-morrow?"
"Yes. Have you anything more to say?"
''Nothing more."
"Leave me, then. _I_ don't keep up appearances. I wish to be alone, and I say so. Good-morning.""Oh, the ***! the ***!" said the doctor, with his excellent temper in perfect working order again. "So delightfully impulsive! so charmingly reckless of what they say or how they say it! 'Oh, woman, in our hours of ease, uncertain, coy, and hard to please!' There! there! there! Good-morning!"Miss Gwilt rose and looked after him contemptuously from the window, when the street door had closed, and he had left the house.
