Captain Kirton had
heart-disease beyond any doubt. His chest was weak also, the lungs not
over-sound; altogether, the Honourable Robert Kirton's might be called
a bad life.
"Would a warmer climate do anything for him?" asked Lord Hartledon.
The surgeon shrugged his shoulders. "He would be better there for some
things than here. On the whole it might temporarily benefit him."
"Then he shall go. And now, Hillary, I want to ask you something
else--and you must answer me, mind. Captain Kirton tells me the fact of
his having heart-disease is not mentioned in the house lest it should
alarm Lady Hartledon, and develop the same in her. Is there any fear of
this?"
"It is true that it's not spoken of; but I don't think there's any
foundation for the fear."
"The old dowager's very fanciful!" cried Lord Hartledon, resentfully.
"A queer old--girl," remarked the surgeon. "Can't help saying it, though
she is your mother-in-law."
"I wish she was any one else's! She's as likely as not to let out
something of this to Maude in her tantrums. But I don't believe a word
of it; I never saw the least symptom of heart-disease in my wife."
"Nor I," said the doctor. "Of course I have not examined her; neither
have I had much opportunity for ordinary observation."
"I wish you would contrive to get the latter. Come up and call often;
make some excuse for seeing Lady Hartledon professionally, and watch her
symptoms.
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