The Ashiel Mystery | Page 2

lack of appetite of which you complain; and I am confident that we shall soon notice an improvement. Above all, my dear Sir, no worry; no anxiety. Lead a quiet, open-air life; play golf; avoid bathing in cold water; avoid soup, potatoes, puddings and alcohol; and come and see me again this day fortnight. Thank you, yes, two guineas. Good-bye."
He pressed Sir Arthur's hand, and shepherded him out of the room.
His patient departed, impressed, soothed and comforted.
After the two weeks had passed, and feeling decidedly better, he returned.
Sir Ronald on this occasion was absolutely cheerful. He expressed himself astonished at the improvement, and enthusiastic on the subject of the excellence of his own advice. He then broke to Sir Arthur the fact that he was about to take his annual holiday. He was starting for Norway the next day, and should not be back for six weeks.
"But what shall I do while you are away?" cried his patient, aghast.
"You have advanced beyond my utmost expectations," replied the doctor, "and the best thing for you now will be to go out to Vichy, and take a course of the waters there. I should have recommended this in any case. My intended departure makes no difference. Let me earnestly advise you to start for France to-morrow."
Sir Arthur had by this time developed a blind faith in Sir Ronald Tompkins and did not dream of ignoring his suggestion. He threw over all the engagements he had made since arriving in England; packed his trunks once more; and, if he did not actually leave the country until two or three days later, it was only because he was not able to get a sleeping berth on the night express at such short notice.
The end of the week saw him installed at Vichy, the most assiduous and conscientious of all the water drinkers assembled there.
It was on the veranda of his hotel that he made the acquaintance of Mrs. Meredith.
She was twenty-five, rich, beautiful and a widow, her husband having been accidentally killed within a few months of their marriage. After a year or so of mourning she had recovered her spirits, and led a gay life in English society, where she was very much in request.
Sir Arthur had seen few attractive women of late, the ladies of Baku being inclined to run to fat and diamonds, and he thought Lena Meredith the most lovely and the most wonderful creature that ever stepped out of a fairy tale.
From the very moment he set eyes on her he was her devoted slave, and after the first few days a more constant attendant than any shadow--for shadows at best are mere fair-weather comrades. He seldom saw the lady alone, for she had with her a small child, not yet a year old, of which she was, as it seemed to Sir Arthur, inordinately fond; and whether she were sitting under the trees in the garden of the hotel, or driving slowly along the dusty roads--as was her habit each afternoon--the baby and its nurse were always with her, and by their presence put an effective check to the personalities in which he was longing to indulge. It would have taken more than a baby to discourage Sir Arthur, however: he cheerfully included the little girl in his attentions; and, as time went on, became known to the other invalids in the place by the nickname of "the Nursemaid."
Mrs. Meredith took his homage as a matter of course. She was used to admiration, though she was not one of those women to whom it is indispensable. She considered it one of the luxuries of life, and held that it is more becoming than diamonds and a better protection against the weather than the most expensive furs. At first she looked upon the obviously stricken state of Sir Arthur with amusement, combined with a good deal of gratification that some one should have arisen to entertain her in this dull health resort; but gradually, as the weeks passed, her point of view underwent a change. Whether it was the boredom of the cure, or whether she was touched by the unselfish devotion of her admirer, or whether it was due merely to the accident that Sir Arthur was an uncommonly good-looking young man and so little conscious of the fact, from one cause or another she began to feel for him a friendliness which grew quickly more pronounced; so that at the end of a month, when he found her, for the first time walking alone by the lake, and proposed to her inside the first two minutes of their encounter, she accepted him almost as promptly, and with very nearly as much enthusiasm.
"I want to talk to you about the child, little Juliet," she said, a day or