Wallingford's
dwelling. I had scarcely touched the knocker when the door was
opened, and by Mrs. Wallingford herself.
"Oh, Doctor, I'm so glad you've come!" she said in a low, troubled
voice.
I stepped in out of the rain, gave her my dripping umbrella, and
laid off my overcoat.
"How is Henry now?" I asked.
She put her finger to her lip, and said, in a whisper,
"Just the same, Doctor--just the same. Listen! Don't you hear him
walking the floor overhead? I've tried to get him to take a cup of
tea, but he won't touch any thing. All I can get out of him
is--'Mother--dear mother--leave me to myself. I shall come right
again. Only leave me to myself now.' But, how can I let him go on in
this way? Oh, Doctor, I am almost beside myself! What can it all
mean? Something dreadful has happened."
I sat listening and reflecting for something like ten minutes.
Steadily, from one side the room overhead to the other, went the
noise of feet; now slowly, now with a quicker motion: and now with a
sudden tramp, that sent the listener's blood with a start along its
courses.
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