to understand this speech, or divine
what especial necessity there was for his own satisfaction as to the
condition of Sir Marcus Cluff's viscera; he, however, assented in
general terms to the high esteem he felt for candor and openness.

"No, my dear Mr. L'Estrange," resumed he, "without this firm
conviction--a sentiment based on faith and the stethoscope together--you
had not seen me here this day."

"The weather is certainly trying," said L'Estrange.

"I do not allude to the weather, sir; the weather is, for the season,
remarkably fine weather; there was a mean temperature of 68 deg. Fahrenheit
during the last twenty-four hours. I spoke of my pulmonary condition,
because I am aware people are in the habit of calling me consumptive.
It is the indiscriminating way ignorance treats a very complex question;
and when I assured you that without an honest conviction that organic
mischief had not proceeded far, I really meant what I said when I told
you you would not have seen me here this day."

Again was the parson mystified, but he only bowed.

"Ah, sir," sighed the other, "why will not people be always candid
and sincere? And when shall we arrive at the practice of what will
compel--actually compel sincerity? I tell you, for instance, I have an
estate worth so much--house property here, and shares in this or that
company--but there are mortgages, I don't say how much against me; I
have no need to say it. You drive down to the Registration Office and
you learn to a shilling to what extent I am liable. Why not have the
same system for physical condition, sir? Why can't you call on the
College of Physicians, or whatever the body be, and say, 'How is Sir
Marcus Cluff? I'd like to know about that right auricle of his heart.
What about his pancreas?' Don't you perceive the inestimable advantage
of what I advise?"

"I protest, sir, I scarcely follow you. I do not exactly see how I have
the right, or to what extent I am interested, to make this inquiry."

"You amaze--you actually amaze me!" and Sir Marcus sat for some seconds
contemplating the object of his astonishment. "I come here, sir, to make
an offer for your sister's hand--"

"Pardon my interrupting, but I learn this intention only now."

"Then you didn't read my note. You didn't read the 'turn-over.'"

"I 'm afraid not. I only saw what referred to the Church."

"Then, sir, you missed the most important; had you taken the trouble to
turn the page, you would ha