"Ten thousand pardons, my dear madam!" cried the captain. "I see in
my niece's face, I feel in my niece's pulse, that one of her violent
neuralgic attacks has come on again. My dear girl, why hesitate among
friends to confess that you are in pain? What mistimed politeness! Her
face shows she is suffering--doesn't it Mrs. Lecount? Darting pains,
Mr. Vanstone, darting pains on the left side of the head. Pull down
your veil, my dear, and lean on me. Our friends will excuse you; our
excellent friends will excuse you for the rest of the day."
Before Mrs. Lecount could throw an instant's doubt on the genuineness
of the neuralgic attack, her master's fidgety sympathy declared
itself exactly as the captain had anticipated, in the most active
manifestations. He stopped the carriage, and insisted on an immediate
change in the arrangement of the places--the comfortable back seat for
Miss Bygrave and her uncle, the front seat for Lecount and himself. Had
Lecount got her smelling-bottle? Excellent creature! let her give it
directly to Miss Bygrave, and let the coachman drive carefully. If the
coachman shook Miss Bygrave he should not have a half-penny for himself.
Pages:
617
618
619
620
621
622
623
624
625
626
627
628
629
630
631
632
633
634
635
636
637
638
639
640
641