at under the orders
of an English-speaking doctor he retreated from it altogether and went
to bed. Here he escaped the bronchitis which had attacked him, and his
convalesence left him so little to complain of that he could not always
keep his temper. In the absence of actual offence, either from his
daughter or from Burnamy, his sense of injury took a retroactive form;
it centred first in Stoller and the twins; then it diverged toward Rose
Adding, his mother and Kenby, and finally involved the Marches in
the same measure of inculpation; for they had each and all had part,
directly or indirectly, in the chances that brought on his cold.

He owed to Burnamy the comfort of the best room in the hotel, and he was
constantly dependent upon his kindness; but he made it evident that he
did not over-value Burnamy's sacrifice and devotion, and that it was not
an unmixed pleasure, however great a convenience, to have him about.
In giving up his room, Burnamy had proposed going out of the hotel
altogether; but General Triscoe heard of this with almost as great
vexation as he had accepted the room. He besought him not to go, but so
ungraciously that his daughter was ashamed, and tried to atone for his
manner by the kindness of her own.

Perhaps General Triscoe would not have been without excuse if he were
not eager to have her share with destitute merit the fortune which she
had hitherto shared only with him. He was old, and certain luxuries had
become habits if not necessaries with him. Of course he did not say this
to himself; and still less did he say it to her. But he let her see that
he did not enjoy the chance which had thrown them again in such close
relations with Burnamy, and he did pot hide his belief that the Marches
were somehow to blame for it. This made it impossible for her to write
at once to Mrs. March as she had promised; but she was determined that
it should not make her unjust to Burnamy. She would not avoid him; she
would not let anything that had happened keep her from showing that she
felt his kindness and was glad of his help.

Of course they knew no one else in Weimar, and his presence merely as
a fellow-countryman would have been precious. He got them a doctor,
against General Triscoe's will; he went for his medicines; he lent him
books and papers; he sat with him and tried to amuse him. But with
the girl he attempted no return to the situation at Carlsbad; there is
nothing like the delicate pride of a yo