esh. Might it not
be that the mortification which he himself had doubtless suffered in
his flesh had been intended for his welfare, and had been very good
for him? But if this were so, it might be that the mortification
was now removed because the Lord knew that his servant had been
sufficiently mortified. He had not been starved or beaten, but the
mortification had been certainly severe. Then there came words--into
his mind, not into his mouth--"The Lord sent the thorn, and the Lord
has taken it away. Blessed be the name of the Lord." After that he
was very angry with himself, and tried to pray that he might be
forgiven. While he was so striving there came a low knock at the
door, and Mrs. Draper again entered the room.

"Dr. Filgrave, my lord, was not at home," said Mrs. Draper; "but he
will be sent the very moment he arrives."

"Very well, Mrs. Draper."

"But, my lord, will you not come for your dinner? A little soup, or
a morsel of something to eat, and a glass of wine, will enable your
lordship to bear it better." He allowed Mrs. Draper to persuade him,
and followed her into the dining-room. "Do not go, Mrs. Draper," he
said; "I would rather that you should stay with me." So Mrs. Draper
stayed with him, and administered to his wants. He was desirous of
being seen by as few eyes as possible in these first moments of his
freedom.

He saw Dr. Filgrave twice, both before and after the doctor had been
upstairs. There was no doubt, Dr. Filgrave said, that it was as Mrs
Draper had surmised. The poor lady was suffering, and had for years
been suffering, from heart-complaint. To her husband she had never
said a word on the subject. To Mrs. Draper a word had been said now
and again,--a word when some moment of fear would come, when some
sharp stroke of agony would tell of danger. But Mrs. Draper had kept
the secret of her mistress, and none of the family had known that
there was aught to be feared. Dr. Filgrave, indeed, did tell the
bishop that he had dreaded all along exactly that which had happened.
He had said the same to Mr. Rerechild, the surgeon, when they two
had had a consultation at the palace on the occasion of a somewhat
alarming birth of a grandchild. But he mixed up this information with
so much medical Latin, and was so pompous over it, and the bishop was
so anxious to be rid of him, that his words did not have much effect.
What did it all matter? The thorn was gone, and the wife was dead,
and the widower