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Updated: June 7, 2025


I could have advised no change in his treatment of the case if I had been on the spot at first. That is a great deal for one physician to say of another. You had better go and get some rest," added Dr. Pendegrast in a changed voice, struck by the young man's ghastly look. "Your two night-journeys have used you up."

Pendegrast at the Hotel Meurice had been hurried and disjointed, and in that respect unsatisfactory; but the minute history of Ruth's previous case, which the doctor related to Lynde in the course of those long summer nights, set his mind completely at rest. "I could never have given her up, anyway," said Lynde to himself. "I have loved her for three years, though I didn't know it.

Presently all this began to distract him, and when he returned to the hotel he was in a humor that would have been comparatively tranquil if so many tedious miles had not stretched between Paris and Chamouni. He found Mr. Denham and Dr. Pendegrast delaying dinner for him.

The invalid could not get well fast enough to keep pace with his impatience. The day she was able for the first time to sit up a while, in an armchair wheeled by the bedside, was a fete day to the four Americans in the Couronne hotel. If Lynde did not exhaust his entire inheritance in cut flowers on this occasion, it was because Dr. Pendegrast objected to them in any profusion in a sick-chamber.

The doctor himself had altered in no essential; he was at that period of man's life between fifty and sixty when ravaging time seems to give him a respite for a couple of lustrums. As soon as Lynde could regain his self-possession he examined Dr. Pendegrast with the forlorn hope that this was not HIS Dr.

He was paralyzed for an instant; a blur came over his eyes, and he felt that his hands and feet were turning into ice However, he made an effort to rise and salute the elderly gentleman who stood at his side with a hand stretched out in the cordial American fashion. Evidently Dr. Pendegrast did not recognize Lynde, in whose personal appearance three years had wrought many changes.

I am unusually late myself, this morning, and my friend, the doctor, is still later. We tired ourselves out yesterday in a jaunt to Fontainebleau. The doctor's an incorrigible sightseer. Ah, there he is! Mr. Lynde, my friend, Dr. Pendegrast." Lynde did not start at hearing this unexpected name, though it pierced his ear like a sharp-pointed arrow.

"She has not the remotest suspicion of the misfortune which befell her three years ago." "Miss Denham does not know it?" repeated Lynde in a dazed way. "That that seems impossible! Pardon me. How did it happen, Dr. Pendegrast?" "I assume that you are not asking me through idle curiosity," said the doctor, looking at him attentively. "I have vital reasons for my question, Doctor."

Denham did not come down to greet them. It dawned upon him then for the first time with any distinctness that Ruth might be fatally ill. Mr. Denham, accompanied by Dr. Pendegrast, hastened to his wife's apartments, and Lynde stationed himself at the head of a staircase in the hall, where he waited nearly an hour in intolerable suspense before the doctor reappeared. "What is it, Doctor?"

Lynde has been kind enough to come all the way to Paris for us." "That WAS very kind in him." Dr. Pendegrast drew a chair up to the table and began questioning Lynde. Beyond satisfying such of the doctor's inquiries as he could, Lynde did not speak during the meal. He managed to swallow a cup of black coffee, which revived him; but he was unable to eat a mouthful.

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