"But you are subject to low spirits, your papa hinted."
"Not naturally; but for a year past my heart has begun to fail me in hopes of the future, why, or how, I cannot tell you; and now, dear Dr. Mortimer, good morning," and away she trotted, with a pleasant smile and a graceful bow, leaving me rooted to the spot with admiration of her beauty, the craving to see her again strong in my heart, and conflicting with the fear that she was fickle, and wearied of her engagement, or had conceived a fancy for some one else, a year ago.
From that period she had begun to date her emotions of sadness.
A year ago, I had been a hard student in my little den in Clerk Street, Edinburgh, a dim shadow in the distance now.
"Go it, old boy," said Bob Asher, who came suddenly upon me a-foot--the phaeton was gone now--"that's not one of old Crammer's patients surely. You are getting on, Fred, and if you wish to continue doing so always talk most to the women, and middle-aged ones; flatter the young girls, but on the sly only; and make a most fatherly fuss with the babies, however ugly or squally, at all times."
Rashly heedless of what the old groom might think or report on the subject, I had an interview there almost daily, for a few brief minutes; at times it was but a bow and a smile, if she was accompanied by friends, or more especially by her brother; and it went hard with me but I made my professional visits and old Crammer's practice suit my plans--if plans I had--for I had given myself up to the intoxication of--yes, of loving Gertrude Chalcot, though she seemed placed above me by Fate as far as the planets are above the earth; but with the conviction came reflections that were not in my mind when the charm of her presence absorbed every other thought and feeling.
When I was alone came calmer thoughts. She was engaged, though to whom I knew not, and she might just be amusing herself with me for the time, while I was laying at her feet the purest love of an honest and affectionate heart.
Why did I love her? Curious fool, be still! Is human love the fruit of human will?
Engaged to another--whose ring was doubtless on her finger--another, who had the privilege of kissing and caressing her, while I had but a formal interview, a park rail between, and the eyes of an observant old groom upon us. I felt as jealous as a Turk or Spaniard at the idea. One day I briefly implored her to meet me a-foot in another part of the park. She agreed to do so, and we had the opportunity of an explanation. I shall never forget how charming my dark-eyed and dark-haired beauty looked in a yellow crape bonnet--that tint ever so suitable to a brunette--with violet flowers between it and her pure complexion.