Zant with the utmost
kindness. She was resolved--obstinately resolved, poor thing--to
remain in London. It is needless to say that, in her melancholy
position, I am attentive to her slightest wishes. I took a lodging
for her; and, at her special request, I chose a house which was
near Kensington Gardens.
"Is there any association with the Gardens which led Mrs.
Zant to make that request?"
"Some association, I believe, with the memory of her
husband. By the way, I wish to be sure of finding her at home, when
I call to-morrow. Did you say (in the course of your interesting
statement) that she intended--as you supposed--to return to
Kensington Gardens to-morrow? Or has my memory deceived
me?"
"Your memory is perfectly accurate."
"Thank you. I confess I am not only distressed by what you
have told me of Mrs. Zant--I am at a loss to know how to act for
the best. My only idea, at present, is to try change of air and
scene. What do you think yourself?"
"I think you are right."
Mr. Zant still hesitated.
"It would not be easy for me, just now," he said,
"to leave my patients and take her abroad."
The obvious reply to this occurred to Mr. Rayburn. A man of
larger worldly experience might have felt certain suspicions, and
might have remained silent. Mr. Rayburn spoke.
"Why not renew your invitation and take her to your house
at the seaside?" he said.
In the perplexed state of Mr. Zant's mind, this plain course
of action had apparently failed to present itself. His gloomy face
brightened directly.
"The very thing!" he said. "I will certainly take
your advice. If the air of St. Sallins does nothing else, it will
improve her health and help her to recover her good looks. Did she
strike you as having been (in happier days) a pretty
woman?"
This was a strangely familiar question to ask--almost an
indelicate question, under the circumstances A certain furtive
expression in Mr. Zant's fine dark eyes seemed to imply that it
had been put with a purpose. Was it possible that he suspected Mr.
Rayburn's interest in his sister-in-law to be inspired by any
motive which was not perfectly unselfish and perfectly pure? To
arrive at such a conclusion as this might be to judge hastily and
cruelly of a man who was perhaps only guilty of a want of delicacy
of feeling. Mr. Rayburn honestly did his best to assume the
charitable point of view. At the same time, it is not to be denied
that his words, when he answered, were carefully guarded, and that
he rose to take his leave.
Mr. John Zant hospitably protested.
"Why are you in such a hurry? Must you really go? I shall
have the honor of returning your visit to-morrow, when I have made
arrangements to profit by that excellent suggestion of yours.
Good-by. God bless you."
He held out his hand: a hand with a smooth s urface and a tawny
color, that fervently squeezed the fingers of a departing friend.
"Is that man a scoundrel?" was Mr. Rayburn's first
thought, after he had left the hotel. His moral sense set all
hesitation at rest--and answered: "You're a fool if you
doubt it."
V.
DISTURBED by presentiments, Mr.
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