sir--a lady!' whispered the boy, rousing his master with a
shake.

'What lady?' cried our friend, starting up, not quite certain that his
dream was an illusion, and half expecting that it might be Rose
herself.--'What lady? Where?'

'_There_, sir!' replied the boy, pointing to the glass door leading into
the surgery, with an expression of alarm which the very unusual
apparition of a customer might have tended to excite.

The surgeon looked towards the door, and started himself, for an instant,
on beholding the appearance of his unlooked-for visitor.

It was a singularly tall woman, dressed in deep mourning, and standing so
close to the door that her face almost touched the glass. The upper part
of her figure was carefully muffled in a black shawl, as if for the
purpose of concealment; and her face was shrouded by a thick black veil.
She stood perfectly erect, her figure was drawn up to its full height,
and though the surgeon felt that the eyes beneath the veil were fixed on
him, she stood perfectly motionless, and evinced, by no gesture whatever,
the slightest consciousness of his having turned towards her.

'Do you wish to consult me?' he inquired, with some hesitation, holding
open the door. It opened inwards, and therefore the action did not alter
the position of the figure, which still remained motionless on the same
spot.

She slightly inclined her head, in token of acquiescence.

'Pray walk in,' said the surgeon.

The figure moved a step forward; and then, turning its head in the
direction of the boy--to his infinite horror--appeared to hesitate.

'Leave the room, Tom,' said the young man, addressing the boy, whose
large round eyes had been extended to their utmost width during this
brief interview. 'Draw the curtain, and shut the door.'

The boy drew a green curtain across the glass part of the door, retired
into the surgery, closed the door after him, and immediately applied one
of his large eyes to the keyhole on the other side.

The surgeon drew a chair to the fire, and motioned the visitor to a seat.
The mysterious figure slowly moved towards it. As the blaze shone upon
the black dress, the surgeon observed that the bottom of it was saturated
with mud and rain.

'You are very wet,' be said.

'I am,' said the stranger, in a low deep voice.

'And you are ill?' added the surgeon, compassionately, for the tone was
that of a person in pain.

'I am,' was the reply--'very ill; not bodily, but