one little squeeze to his lips, and then the man within him
overcame the doctor. "Sir Louis is no more," he said.

"God's will be done!" said Dr Thorne.

"His death is a release; for his last days have been very frightful.
Your coming, Dr Thorne, will be a comfort to Lady Scatcherd." And
then Dr Fillgrave, thinking that even the present circumstances
required no further condescension, ensconced himself in the carriage.

"His last days have been very dreadful! Ah, me, poor fellow! Dr
Fillgrave, before you go, allow me to say this: I am quite aware that
when he fell into your hands, no medical skill in the world could
save him."

Dr Fillgrave bowed low from the carriage, and after this unwonted
exchange of courtesies, the two doctors parted, not to meet again--at
any rate, in the pages of this novel. Of Dr Fillgrave, let it now be
said, that he grows in dignity as he grows in years, and that he is
universally regarded as one of the celebrities of the city of
Barchester.

Lady Scatcherd was found sitting alone in her little room on the
ground-floor. Even Hannah was not with her, for Hannah was now
occupied upstairs. When the doctor entered the room, which he did
unannounced, he found her seated on a chair, with her back against
one of the presses, her hands clasped together over her knees, gazing
into vacancy. She did not ever hear him or see him as he approached,
and his hand had slightly touched her shoulder before she knew that
she was not alone. Then, she looked up at him with a face so full of
sorrow, so worn with suffering, that his own heart was racked to see
her.

"It is all over, my friend," said he. "It is better so; much better
so."

She seemed at first hardly to understand him, but still regarding him
with that wan face, shook her head slowly and sadly. One might have
thought that she was twenty years older than when Dr Thorne last saw
her.

He drew a chair to her side, and sitting by her, took her hand in
his. "It is better so, Lady Scatcherd; better so," he repeated. "The
poor lad's doom had been spoken, and it is well for him, and for you,
that it should be over."

"They are both gone now," said she, speaking very low; "both gone
now. Oh, doctor! To be left alone here, all alone!"

He said some few words trying to comfort her; but who can comfort
a widow bereaved of her child? Who can console a heart that has
lost all that it possessed? Sir Roger had not been to her a tender
husband; but still