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"When is that woman going away?" she demanded. "I've took care of Hilary Vane nigh on to forty years, and I guess I know as much about nursing, and more about Hilary, than that young thing with her cap and apron. I told Dr. Tredway so. She even came down here to let me know what to cook for him, and I sent her about her business." Austen smiled.
"Yes?" he said, and glanced at the broad-shouldered, well-groomed figure of Mr. Rangely, who was standing at a discreet distance. "Your father has had an attack of some kind, please don't be alarmed, he seems to be recovered now, and I thought and Dr. Tredway thought you ought to know about it. The doctor could not leave Ripton, and I offered to come and tell you." "An attack?" he repeated.
"Sit down, Tredway," he said mechanically, "I will have an answer ready in a moment." Grateful to be relieved of the pains of indecision by the necessity for prompt action he took up a pen and wrote rapidly: "DEAR MISS MACLEOD: It is very hard for me to refuse your kind invitation to be with you to-morrow night, but it is impossible to accept it.
Then he said encouragingly: "Ah, there is nothing but the remains of their former greatness left to the Macleods. They are growing more and more bourgeois since coming to this degenerate country. "Yes, I imagine that their family dignity, in such times as these, may be a little out of repair; but I can hardly venture to build vain hopes on the ruins. You are a good fellow, Tredway; good-bye!"
"Ah, papa's Tory prejudices would be sure to do injustice to Dunlop," Edward rejoined; "but, I fear," he added, "there is need in the political arena of Upper Canada of just such a Reformer as he." At this stage of the conversation the old Commodore was observed on the veranda, and Tredway approached the group to announce that lunch was on the table.
"There would be little hope, but in this 'brave new world, where the odour of the woods is a tonic, and the air brings healing and balm, how can death exist? Ah, Tredway, this is a beautiful country!" "To me there is but one beautiful country that is England." Again there was that lingering intonation. Edward Macleod gave vent to a short melancholy laugh.
Victoria, after leaving Euphrasia, made her way around the house towards Mr. Rangely, who was waiting in the runabout, her one desire for the moment being to escape. Before she had reached the sidewalk under the trees, Dr. Tredway had interrupted her. "Miss Flint," he called out, "I wanted to say a word to you before you went." "Yes," she said, stopping and turning to him.
"Yes?" he said, and glanced at the broad-shouldered, well-groomed figure of Mr. Rangely, who was standing at a discreet distance. "Your father has had an attack of some kind, please don't be alarmed, he seems to be recovered now, and I thought and Dr. Tredway thought you ought to know about it. The doctor could not leave Ripton, and I offered to come and tell you." "An attack?" he repeated.
Tredway believing that it had done more for him than any medicine or specialists. And when, one warm October day, Victoria herself came and sat beside the canopied bed, her conquest was complete: he surrendered to her as he had never before surrendered to man or woman or child, and the desire to live surged back into his heart, the desire to live for Austen and Victoria.
Rangely, who had been a deeply interested spectator to this scene. "A little way down the street, on the other side, Dr. Tredway lives. You will see his sign." "And if he isn't in, go to the hospital. It's only a few doors farther on." "I'll wait," said Victoria, simply, when he had gone; "my father will wish to know about Mr. Vane."
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