time and somebody else's money like an
irresponsible tripper."

Dr. Grey laughed when I told him that I had qualms of conscience on
this score.

"Don't worry," he said; "Providence has her own notions of how angels
can best minister, and I fancy you are carrying out her scheme pretty
successfully, It's three days since the old gentleman spoke a word
about dying, and I'm certain he is not nearly as anxious to be gone as
he was before you came. But cannot you tempt him back to England by
any means? My wife and I cannot remain here much longer, and I would
like to help you to take him home."

I did my best, but I made little headway. The squire seemed to have
lost all desire for home, and had quite made up his mind that his body
would soon be laid to rest amid the eternal snows. He was constantly
anticipating some further attack which would cut him down without
warning, and Gottlieb seemed to find a mournful satisfaction in
encouraging these forebodings, less perhaps by what he said than by
what he left unsaid.

A tinge of annoyance began to mix with Dr. Grey's laugh, and he spoke
to the squire with a touch of asperity. He had subjected him again to
a thorough examination, and on its conclusion he broke out:

"Look here, Mr. Evans, I stake my professional reputation upon my
verdict that you are not a dying man physically. If you die it's your
own fault. There is no reason why we should not start for home
to-morrow."

The squire took his hand and held it. "Grey," he said, "has science
taught you that man has an inward voice that sometimes speaks more
authoritatively and convincingly than doctor or parson, and that
insists upon its dicta? Miss Holden knows it and calls it her 'Inner
Self.'"

"No, sir," he replied, "science has taught me nothing of the kind. I
am no psychologist, for my business is with the body rather than the
soul. But science has taught me what the body is and is not able to
accomplish, and whatever your 'Inner Self' may say I am convinced that
your body is quite competent to take that perverse autocrat home if he
will let it. But it cannot otherwise."

"Intuition is sometimes more powerful than logic," said the squire.
"Grey, you are a good fellow and I owe you a debt of gratitude, but
don't inconvenience yourself on my account. Go home, if you must, and
believe me, I am sincerely thankful for all your goodness and
attention."

The doctor tackled me again at dinner. "I'm not goi