the fire.

“Found her better then?” said Wilton.

“No, sir,” said Leigh, smiling, “but she is certainly better now.”

“That’s what I meant. Nothing the matter, then. Vapours, whims, young girls’ hysterics, and that sort of thing? What did she have for breakfast, Maria?”

“Nothing at all, dear. I can’t get her to eat.”

“Humph! Why don’t you make her? Can’t stand our miserable cookery, I suppose. Well, Doctor, then, it’s a false alarm?”

“No, sir; a very serious warning.”

“Eh? You don’t think there’s danger? Here, we’d better send for some big man from town.”

“That is hardly necessary, sir, though I should be happy to meet a man of experience in consultation.”

“My word! What airs!” said Wilton, to himself.

“As far as I could I have pretty well diagnosed the case, and it is very simple. Your niece has evidently suffered deeply.”

“Terribly, Doctor; she has been heart-broken.”

“Now, my dear Maria, do pray keep your mouth shut, and let Mr Leigh talk. He doesn’t want you to teach him his business.”

“But James, dear, I only just—”

“Yes, you always will only just! Go on, please, Doctor, and you’ll send her some medicine?”

“It is hardly a case for medicine, sir. Your niece’s trouble is almost entirely mental. Given rest and happy surroundings, cheerful female society of her own age, fresh air, moderate exercise, and the calmness and peace of a home like this, I have no doubt that her nerves will soon recover their tone.”

“Then they had better do it,” said Wilton, gruffly. “She has everything a girl can wish for. My son and I have done all we can to amuse her.”

“And I’m sure I have been as loving as a mother to her,” said Mrs Wilton.

“Yes, but you are mistaken, sir. 

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