"
The earnest, restless eyes looked strangely supplicating.
"Into his own hands, Maurice!"
"Very well, very well," Mangan had just time to say, for here was the
doctor.
Dr. Whitsen examined his patient with the customary professional calm
and reticence; asked a few questions, which Lionel answered with such
husky voice as was left him; and then he said,
"Yes, you have caught a severe chill, and your system is feverish
generally; the throat is distinctly congested--"
"But to-night, doctor--the theatre--to-night!" Lionel broke in,
excitedly. "Surely by eight o'clock--"
"Oh, quite impossible; not to be thought of," the doctor responded, with
decision.
"Why can't you do something to tide me over, for the one night?" the
young man said, with appealing and almost pathetic eyes. "I've never
disappointed the public once before, never once; and if I could only get
over to-night, there's the long rest to-morrow and Monday."
"Come, come," said the doctor, soothingly, "you must not excite yourself
about a mere trifle. You know it is no uncommon thing, and the public
don't resent it; they would be most unreasonable if they did. Singers
are but mortal like themselves.
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