Peculiarly disturbed, Andrew returned to his office, to find Miss
Franklin there, waiting for him. He was about to reprove her sharply for
her outrageous intrusion, but she spoke first.
“Who was that?”
“A patient; and you must never, under any circumstances, come into this
room when I have a patient here.”
“It’s long after office hours. I didn’t know it was a patient. She was
‘a lady to see the doctor,’ and I wondered what you were doing shut up
here.”
“You needn’t constitute yourself my mentor!” he cried angrily.
“Why, doctor, I never thought of such a thing!”
“Then please don’t do it again.”
“But, if she wasn’t a patient, what was she here for?”
He stared at her, astounded at her effrontery--and uneasy.
“As I told you once before, I am making a series of analyses. I was
making a study of--that lady.”
“You only analyze women, don’t you?”
“Certainly not!” he answered with a frown. “Only they happen to be
about--”
“Yes, they do!” Miss Franklin agreed warmly. “They certainly do happen
to be about!” She sat down. “I’ve been analyzing _you_,” she said.
Again instinct warned him, and he would have fled.
“Not worth it!” he said lightly.
“I can analyze you,” she went on; “but I can’t understand myself. I
don’t quite see why you should affect me so. I’m not at all inclined to
sentimentality. I’ve never felt like this before.”
He sat in frozen silence.
“And as a perfectly free woman,” went on, “I’m not ashamed to tell you
that I want you.”
“Want me to what?” he asked stupidly.
“I’d be even willing to marry you,” she said, “as soon as you get a
divorce. I can see that you’re timid and conventional, like most men.”
“Good God!” cried Andrew. “Please--”
“Why not? If you don’t love me now, you will later. I’ll make you. I’ve
set my mind on you. I think you’re a fascinating creature!”
“You don’t know me!” he protested feebly.
“I do. I know that I’m in love with you, anyway, and that you’re lonely
and need me.”
“Lonely!” thought the wretched man. “Not exactly!”
Aloud he said nothing, but sat silent, conscious of the steady gaze of
her fierce, candid eyes.
“I hadn’t intended to tell you to-night,” she went on. “I know you’re
very shy, and I’d intended to win you over little by little. Not by any
feminine trickery or illusion, you understand. I’d just reveal myself.
I’m sure that if you knew me, you’d love me. We’re so perfectly
matched,” she ended, a bit impatiently. “I wish there weren’t all this
fuss and trouble! I wish you’d make up your mind promptly!”
“But--” he began.
“Don’t answer me now, when you’re in this contrary, obstinate humor.
I’ll wait till to-morrow evening. Now let’s talk about something else.”
“No!” said Andrew. “I’m going to bed. Good night!”
He went off with a quick step and a frown; but his going was not
effective. It was too much like flight, and it was spoiled by the grin
on Miss Franklin’s face.
Alone in his room he gave up the effort to hide his alarm.
“That woman’s got to go!” he cried. “I’m not going to be hounded and
bothered by her like this! How am I to do any work? How can I get rid of
her?”
Reflection convinced him that he could not.
“Then I’ll get myself called away, and I’ll stay away until--”
Until what? What was to save him? Where could he find a refuge from
feminine persecution?
He went to bed, but he could not sleep. He was quite worn and haggard in
the morning, and Miss Franklin observed it at the breakfast-table.
“You look awfully tired,” she said. “Why don’t you take a rest to-day?”
“Never was busier!” he answered hastily. “I haven’t a free moment all
day. Please see that I’m not disturbed.”
“How am I to know which women disturb you and which ones
you’re--studying?” Miss Franklin asked with outrageous impudence.
“Better give me a list.”
He strode into his office, closed the door, and tried to resume that
unfinished letter to Marian. He hadn’t got well started when the bell
rang and the parlor-maid ushered in little Mavis Borrowby, flushed and
out of breath.
“Oh, doctor!” she cried. “Such a row! Imagine! I’ve had to run away!
Papa is in the most awful rage!” She sank into a chair. “You see,” she
said, “I told Edward last night that I wouldn’t marry him--ever. I said
I didn’t believe in marriage. And he--nasty little sneak!--ran off to
papa and told him. You can imagine how papa took it, with his old-fogy
ideas. He roared and stamped and swore. He wanted to know where I got
such ideas from; and I said, very calmly, from you. Then he said I must
never speak to you again, and all sorts of nonsense. Of course I said I
_would_ speak to you, and I would never, never renounce you for any
one--”
“Renounce me! Really, Mavis, isn’t that a bit--”
“I told him that you were the most wonderful man I’d ever seen, and that
I would not give you up. But, doctor dear, where are you going to hide
me? He’ll be here after me any minute!”
“I’m not going to hide you at all!” cried Andrew. “It’s all nonsense!”
“Oh, but you must!” she cried. “You can’t be so horrible, when I’ve been
so loyal to you.”
“There’s no reason for hiding, you silly child! You’ve done nothing
wrong.”
“Oh, but papa thinks so! He told me not to _dare_ to see you again. He
says it’s all your fault that I won’t marry Edward. He says you’ve put
all sorts of awful ideas in my head. Oh, doctor! There’s the door-bell
now! I know it’s father! Oh, don’t let him get me! He says he’ll send me
to a convent!”
She had clutched his arm frantically and was looking into his face with
brimming eyes.
“Oh, please, please hide me!” she cried. “Just till I can think of some
sort of plan!”
He faltered and weakened. At last he opened the door of a
clothes-closet.
“Lock the door and keep quiet,” he said. “I’ll see if I can get him
away.”
After an earnest look around to see that she had not left any trace of
herself--hat, gloves, or other incriminating articles--the doctor opened
his office door, and there stood Mrs. Hamilton. She looked very pale and
ill.
“Just an instant!” she said, with an odd smile. “I won’t keep you a
minute. I only came to say good-by.”
“Where are you going?” he asked kindly.
She smiled again.
“It doesn’t matter. I thought if I came early, before your office hours,
I might catch you alone for a few minutes; but it doesn’t matter.”
“But you have caught me alone,” he answered cheerfully. “Sit down, Mrs.
Hamilton. I’m in no hurry.”
“Please don’t try to deceive me,” she said coldly. “I know all about
that girl who came in here. That nursery governess--that Franklin
person--told me in the hall. I have no claim on you, doctor. There’s no
reason for deceiving me. You’re quite, quite free to do as you please.
You won’t be troubled with me again. I’m going away.”
“Where?” he asked, wretchedly scenting some new and obscure trouble.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said again. “Nothing matters. My husband
insists upon my going out to Wyoming with him at once. Of course I
refused; so here I am penniless, alone in the world--”
“Your children?”
“He’s going to take them. They’re better without me, anyway. I’m a weak
and indulgent mother. I love too intensely. That’s my nature--to be
intense. I give--I ask nothing, I expect nothing, I simply give and
give. I’m not complaining. I only wish,” she ended, with a pitiful
little break in her voice, “that there were some one--just one person in
the world--who cared! I’m not strong enough to stand alone. I’m not
complaining. I know one can’t command the heart; but for a little while
I did think--”
He felt like a brute.
“Good-by!” she said, holding out her slender hand and smiling pitifully.
“Good-by, my dear!”
He grasped her hand.
“Where are you going?” he demanded.
She looked at him steadily.
“Good-by!”
“No--look here! You won’t do anything reckless?”
“I shall have to carry out my plans. Good-by!”
“I sha’n’t let you go like this!”
“Please let go of my hand! There’s some one coming!”