She had not reckoned with the weakness following two unaccustomed days
in bed. Dr. Evans was a kindly elderly man, whose one affectation was
the gruffness which the country doctor of the old school so often
assumes as if he wished to emphasize his disapproval of the modern suave
manner of his city _confrère_. He had a sardonic humor and a sharp
tongue which had at first quite terrified Nora, until she discovered
that they were meant to hide the most generous heart in the world. Many
were the kindly acts he performed in secret for the very people he was
most accustomed to abuse.

Having felt Nora's pulse and looked at her sharply with his keen gray
eyes, he settled the question of her attendance at Miss Wickham's
funeral with his accustomed finality.

"You'll do nothing of the sort," he growled. "You may get up after a
while and go and sit in the garden a bit; the air is fairly spring-like.
But this afternoon you must lie down again for an hour or two. I suppose
you'll have to get up to do the civil for James Wickham and his wife
before they go back to town. Oh, no! they'll not stay the night. They'll
rush back as fast as the train will take them, once they've heard the
will read. Couldn't bear the associations with the place, now that their
dear aunt has departed!" He gave one of his sardonic chuckles.

"It may be nonsense"--this in reply to Nora's remonstrance--"but I'm not
going to have you on my hands next. You'll go to that funeral and get
hysterical like all women, and begin to think that you wish her back. I
should think this last year would have been about all anyone would want.
But you're a poor sentimental creature, after all," he jeered.

"I'm nothing of the sort. But I did feel sorry for her, badly as she