"As certain," quoth the professor, non-committally, "as any thing in
surgery can be."
"It wouldn't be safe to move him, of course?"
"Not till he's a good deal better; you see, the collar-bone--"
"Yes, I'll take your word for it," said Abbie, very pale. "Well, I'm
glad he's in such good hands. If I had him he wouldn't be comfortable; I
should be sure to do him more harm than good; it's better as it is; much
better."
She spoke in an inward tone, looking vacantly out into the rain, and
fumbling with the handle of her umbrella.
"But you'll come up and see him once in a while, at the Parsonage?"
Abbie shook her head. "No, no, Professor Valeyon; why should I? Do you
suppose he wants to see me? do you suppose he's thought of me once since
he went away? It would be a strange thing for an educated, intellectual,
wealthy young man like him to do, wouldn't it?" asked Abbie, with a
smile.
The professor's eyes met hers for a moment, and then she looked away.
Presently she spoke again:
"I'd a great deal rather leave this world as I've lived in it, for the
last twenty years and more, than run any risk of making a blunder. I
don't want things to change, Professor Valeyon; but if they do, it
musn't be through any act of mine, or yours either.
Pages:
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169