Miller came from the inner chamber with a lamp in her hand. How she
started! With her pale face grown suddenly paler, and her hand on her
bosom, she could only exclaim, "Why, it's Dr. Renton!" and stand, still
and dumb, gazing with a frightened look at his face, whiter than her
own. Whereupon Mrs. Flanagan came bolting out again, with wild eyes
and a sort of stupefied horror in her good, coarse, Irish features;
and then, with some uncouth ejaculation, ran back, and was heard to
tumble over something within, and tumble something else over in her
fall, and gather herself up with a subdued howl, and subside.
"Mrs. Miller," began Dr. Renton, in a low, husky voice, glancing at
her frightened face, "I hope you'll be composed. I spoke to you very
harshly and rudely to-night; but I really was not myself--I was in
anger--and I ask your pardon. Please to overlook it all, and--but I
will speak of this presently; now--I am a physician; will you let me
look now at your sick child?"
He spoke hurriedly, but with evident sincerity.
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