"Certainly--it is quite different," said Mrs. Fitzpatrick, speaking with effort.
"You feel uncertain about my health," said Aveline, not noticing the anguish her words caused her mother, "but you know it may improve."
Mrs. Fitzpatrick, unable to control her voice, rose and hurried out of the room. This was a most unusual instance of emotion with her, and had Aveline been in health, such a circumstance would have agitated her beyond measure.
"Poor mamma," said she, looking after her mother, "I do believe she worries herself sadly about my health, and no wonder; for at times, I almost despair of myself. I am better now, however." Mr. Haveloc led the pony up to the window, and Aveline fed him with one slice of bread after another.
"Do you think he knows me, Mr. Haveloc?" she asked.
"He ought," said Mr. Haveloc, "but take care, Miss Fitzpatrick, he will include your fingers in his bill of fare some fine day."
"I am sure he would not do it on purpose," said Aveline.
"Ah! here is Mr. Lindsay. I am really glad to see you this morning; mamma is very low about me. Go and cheer her--tell her I am better."
"What has that to do with it? I don't want you to blind me, Mr. Lindsay, but mamma. But seriously, I am no worse than when you last saw me."
"So I find; you are much the same," said Mr. Lindsay, removing his fingers from her pulse.
"And it is more important that you should give me a good word," said Aveline, "because I meditate doing something very imprudent to morrow."
"Going to church, doctor," replied Aveline.
"You could not do better," said the doctor drily. "It will be a glorious hot day; and the little walk up that steep hill will just put you into condition for sitting two hours on an uneasy straight bench;--go by all means."
"I thought you would be perverse, doctor," said Aveline. "I expected it. And let me tell you, in the first place, I am not going to walk. I mean to ride Hakon Jarl. Take him back, Mr. Haveloc, I have no more bread to give him."
"And why, in the name of all that's good, cannot you stop and say your prayers at home?" asked the doctor.
"Because I don't choose it, doctor. I like to go to church."
"Ah! a good many people think there is something mysterious in the air of a church," said Mr. Lindsay. "However take your own course; there is something truly pious in a bad cold caught in a damp pew--it sends people now and then to Heaven before their time, I grant you."