"
"But, dear friend, I assure you"--
"We DO NOT deceive our friend. We CANNOT deceive our doctor."
Josephine trembled, but defended herself after the manner of her sex.
"Dear doctor," said she, "I love you all the better for this. Your
regard for me has for once blinded your science. I am not so robust as
you have known me, but there is nothing serious the matter with me. Let
us talk of something else. Besides, it is not interesting to talk about
one's self."
"Very well; since there is nothing serious or interesting in your case,
we will talk about something that is both serious and interesting."
"With all my heart;" and she smiled with a sense of relief.
But the doctor leaned over the table to her, and said in a cautious and
most emphatic whisper, "We will talk about YOUR CHILD."
The work dropped from Josephine's hands: she turned her face wildly on
Aubertin, and faltered out, "M--my child?"
"My words are plain," replied he gravely. "YOUR CHILD."
When the doctor repeated these words, when Josephine looking in his face
saw he spoke from knowledge, however acquired, and not from guess, she
glided down slowly off the sofa and clasped his knees as he stood before
her, and hid her face in an agony of shame and terror on his knees.
Pages:
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411