How different this from the listless, companionless drives
taken by the lady in her own carriage--a kind of easy, vibrating
machine, that quickened the sluggish blood no more than a cushioned
rocking chair!
Closely the doctor observed his patient. He saw how erectly she
continued to sit; how the color deepened in her face, which actually
seemed rounder and fuller; how the sense of enjoyment fairly danced
in her eyes.
Returning to the city by a different road, the doctor, after driving
through streets entirely unfamiliar to his companion, drew up his
horse before a row of mean-looking dwellings, and dropping the
reins, threw open the carriage door, and stepped upon the
pavement--at the same time reaching out his hand to Mrs. Carleton.
But she drew back, saying,--
"What is the meaning of this, doctor?"
"I have a patient here, and I want you to see her."
"O, no; excuse me, doctor. I've no taste for such things," answered
the lady.
"Come--I can't leave you alone in the carriage. Ned might take a
fancy to walk off with you."
Mrs. Carleton glanced at the patient old horse, whom the doctor was
slandering, with a slightly alarmed manner.
"Don't you think he'll stand, doctor?" she asked, uneasily.
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