"Harriet, bring me a cup of strong coffee."
Dr. Hartwell had returned late in the afternoon of the second day,
and, travel-worn and weary, threw himself down on the sofa in his
study. There was a pale severity in his face which told that his
reflections during his brief absence had been far from pleasant, and
as he swept back the hair from his forehead, and laid his head on
the cushion, the whole countenance bespoke the bitterness of a proud
but miserable man. He remained for some time with closed eyes, and
when the coffee was served drank it without comment. Harriet busied
herself about the room, doing various unnecessary things, and
wondering why her master did not inquire concerning home affairs.
Finally, having exhausted every pretext for lingering, she coughed
very spasmodically once or twice, and, putting her hand on the knob
of the door, said deferentially: "Do you want anything else, sir? The bathroom is all ready."
"Has my sister been to the asylum?"
"No, sir."
"Go and arrange Beulah's room."
She retired; and, springing up, he paced the floor, striving to
master the emotion which so unwontedly agitated him. His lips
writhed, and the thin nostrils expanded, but he paused before the
melodeon, sat down and played several pieces, and gradually the
swollen veins on his brow lost their corded appearance, and the
mouth resumed its habitual compression. Then, with an exterior as
calm as the repose of death, he took his hat, and went toward the
parlor. Mr. Lockhart was reclining on one of the sofas, Pauline sat
on an ottoman near him, looking over a book of prints, and Mrs.
Chilton, tastefully attired, occupied the piano-stool. Witching
strains of music greeted her brother, as he stopped at the door and
looked in. In the mirror opposite she saw his image reflected, and
for an instant her heart beat rapidly; but the delicate fingers flew
over the keys as skillfully as before, and only the firm setting of
the teeth betokened the coming struggle. He entered, and, walking up
to the invalid, said cordially: "How are you, Percy? better, I hope." While one hand clasped his
friend's, the other was laid with brotherly freedom on the sick
man's head.
"Of course I am. There was no malady in Eden, was there? Verily,
Guy, in your delightful home, I am growing well again."
"Ah! so much for not possessing Ithuriel's spear. I am glad to find
you free from fever."
"Howd'y-do, uncle! Don't you see me?" said Pauline, reaching up her
hand.