Fanny asked leave to
look at the likeness when it had been "printed" from the negative, in
the garden. He first examined it himself--and then deliberately tore it
up and let the fragments fly away in the wind. "I am not satisfied with
it," was all the explanation he offered. One of the garden chairs
happened to be near him; he sat down, and looked like a man in a state
of torment under his own angry thoughts.
If the patient's health had altered for the worse, and if the tendency
to relapse had proved to be noticeable after medicine had been
administered, Fanny's first suspicions might have taken a very serious
turn. But the change in Oxbye--sleeping in purer air and sustained by
better food than he could obtain at the hospital--pointed more and more
visibly to a decided gain of vital strength. His hollow checks were
filling out, and colour was beginning to appear again on the pallor of
his skin. Strange as the conduct of Lord Harry and Mr. Vimpany might
be, there was no possibility, thus far, of connecting it with the
position occupied by the Danish guest. Nobody who had seen his face,
when he was first brought to the cottage, could have looked at him
again, after the lapse of a fortnight, and have failed to discover the
signs which promise recovery of health.
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