e. "I was afraid so at first, but it is nothing of the kind. Not
his own act, sir, but a sudden seizure, and no wonder. Tall, portly
man--predisposition to apoplexy. Here, quick, Jane--basin and towels.
Mr Elstree, open that window, and let's have air; then send away those
open-mouthed, staring fools outside. Nothing serious, I hope."

As he spoke, he had loosened the baronet's neckband, and torn the sleeve
away from his arm, to lay bare and open a vein, his ministrations being
followed before very long by a heavy sigh from the patient, other
favourable symptoms soon supervening, and in a short time the baronet
was pronounced out of danger.

"I don't know what people would do if it were not for our profession,"
said Dr Challen, importantly, as he fussed about in the hall,
superintending the carrying of Sir Murray to his bed-chamber.

"And a wee bit help from a man as can handle twa or three tules," said
Sandy McCray, in a whisper to himself, for he was one of the porters;
and then Dr Challen had the further satisfaction of knowing that he had
two patients instead of one, both, though, progressing favourably.

Book 1, Chapter XXI.

THE GENTLE PASSION.

Some days had passed, and the Doctor had taken his departure, confining
himself now to a couple of calls per diem. Lady Gernon was progressing
fast towards recovery, and Sir Murray, very quiet and staid, was again
up; but, so far as the servants knew, and did not omit to tattle about,
he had had no interview with her ladyship. But the heads of the
establishment were not the only ones in that house sore at heart, for
Jane Barker, in her times of retirement, shed many a bitter tear. She
never asked about him, but there were those amongst the domestics who
heard the news, and soon bore it to her, that John Gurdon had left the
neighbouring town where he had been staying, and was gone to Liverpool,
with the intention of proceeding to Australia: in which announcement
there was some little truth and a good deal of fiction, the shade of
truth being that John Gurdon was going abroad, though not in the way he
had published.

"And never to write and ask me to see him again," sobbed Jane--"never to
say `good-bye.' Oh, what a blessing life would be if there was no
courting in it! as is a curse to everybody, as I've seen enough to my
cost, without counting my own sufferings."

Jane was bewailing her fate at the open window one night when these
thoughts passed through h