CHAPTER XII.
"What a lovely evening," exclaimed Arthur Bernard, as rising from his
seat, by the invalid's couch, he drew aside the thick folds of the
crimson damask curtains, allowing the glorious rays of the full-orbed
moon to illuminate the apartment.
"My dear Sir," he said kindly, turning to Mr. Denham, the uncle of
Agnes, for he it was who reclined on the velvet lounge, propped up by
pillows, "I am sure it would do you good, on a fine spring day such as
this has been, to take a short drive through the suburbs of the city.
The fresh, balmy air of delightful May would prove, as your physician
told you, yesterday, the best restorative; better, far better, than all
his drugs; and, besides, it will divert your mind to mark the dawn of
summer, to witness how quickly, almost instantaneously, the trees have
put forth their leaves, and in the parks and fields, how thick and
verdant Nature's flowery carpet. Can I not prevail upon you to accompany
me to-morrow in a short drive? I know, on your return, you will not
regret having been persuaded to try the efficacy of my prescription.
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