to himself.

Mr. Neal walked to the window, and stood there, with his eyes
mechanically fixed on the prospect, composing his mind for the coming
interview.

It was midday; the sun shone bright and warm; and all the little world
of Wildbad was alive and merry in the genial springtime. Now and again
heavy wagons, with black-faced carters in charge, rolled by the window,
bearing their precious lading of charcoal from the forest. Now and
again, hurled over the headlong current of the stream that runs
through the town, great lengths of timber, loosely strung together in
interminable series--with the booted raftsmen, pole in hand, poised
watchful at either end--shot swift and serpent-like past the houses
on their course to the distant Rhine. High and steep above the gabled
wooden buildings on the river-bank, the great hillsides, crested black
with firs, shone to the shining heavens in a glory of lustrous green.
In and out, where the forest foot-paths wound from the grass through the
trees, from the trees over the grass, the bright spring dresses of women
and children, on the search for wild flowers, traveled to and fro in
the lofty distance like spots of moving light. Below, on the walk by the
stream side, the booths of the little bazar that had opened punctually
with the opening season showed all their glittering trinkets, and
fluttered in the balmy air their splendor of many-colored flags.
Longingly, here the children looked at the show; patiently the sunburned
lasses plied their knitting as they paced the walk; courteously the
passing townspeople, by fours and fives, and the passing visitors, by
ones and twos, greeted each other, hat in hand; and slowly, slowly,
the cripple and the helpless in their chairs on wheels came out in the
cheerful noontide with the rest, and took their share of the blessed
light that cheers, of the blessed sun that shines for all.

On this scene the Scotchman looked, with eyes that never noted its
beauty, with a mind far away from every lesson that it taught. One by
one he meditated the words he should say when the wife came in. One by
one he pondered over the conditions he might impose before he took the
pen in hand at the husband's bedside.

"Mrs. Armadale is here," said the doctor's voice, interposing suddenly
between his reflections and himself.

He turned on the instant, and saw before him, with the pure midday light
shining full on her, a woman of the mixed blood of the European and t