obably not been love, for it seemed
utterly crushed out of him by his shame and despair. Everything
connected with his past life was hateful to him; he declared that he
could never show his face at Stoneborough again, let the result be what
it might--that he could never visit another patient, and that he should
change his name and leave the country, beginning on that very Sunday
afternoon to write a letter to his principal rival to negotiate the
sale of his practice.

In fact, his first impression had returned on him, and though he never
disclaimed belief in Leonard's statement, the entire failure of all
confirmation convinced him that the blow had been struck by his brother
in sudden anger, and that, defend him as he might and would, the stain
was on his house, and the guilt would be brought home.

Resolved, however, to do his utmost, he went with Mr. Bramshaw for a
consultation with Leonard on the Monday. Averil could not go. She
rose and dressed, and remained resolute till nearly the last minute,
when her feverish faint giddiness overpowered her, and she was forced
to submit to lie on the sofa, under Minna's care; and there she lay,
restless and wretched, till wise little Minna sent a message up to the
High Street, which brought down Mary and Dr. Spencer. They found her
in a state of nervous fever, that sentenced her to her bed, where Mary
deposited her and watched over her, till her brother's return, more
desponding than ever.

Dr. May, with all Henry's patients on his hands as well as his own, had
been forced to devote this entire day to his profession; but on the
next, leaving Henry to watch over Averil, who continued very feeble and
feverish, he went to Whitford, almost infected by Henry's forebodings
and Mr. Bramshaw's misgivings. 'It is a bad case,' the attorney had
said to him, confidentially. 'But that there is always a great
reluctance to convict upon circumstantial evidence, I should have very
little hope, that story of his is so utterly impracticable; and yet he
looks so innocent and earnest all the time, and sticks to it so
consistently, that I don't know what to make of it. I can't do
anything with him, nor can his brother either; but perhaps you might
make him understand that we could bring him clear off for
manslaughter--youth, and character and all. I should not doubt of a
verdict for a moment! It is awkward about the money, but the alarm
would be considered in the sentence.'

'You don't