whose personality would never be overlooked.

There was a more telling force in his composure than in the doctor's
nervous energy. His clear eyes, his bright, yet steady glance,
inspired confidence.

The doctor might have been taken for a poet, but John looked like a
philosopher.

He was also, as obviously, in appearance, a man of the world, and a
Londoner, as the doctor was evidently a countryman, and a hermit. His
advantages over the doctor included his voice, which was as deep and
musical as the tones of his companion were harsh.

The manner, no less than the matter of John's speech, had early
brought him distinction.

Nature, rather than cultivation, had bestowed on him the faculty of
conveying the impression he wished to convey, in tones that charm; and
held his auditors, and penetrated ears dulled and fatigued by monotony
and indistinctness.

The more impassioned his pleading, the more utterly he held his own
emotion in check; the more biting his subtly chosen words, the more
courteous his manner; now deadly earnest, now humorously scornful,
now graciously argumentative, but always skilfully and designedly
convincing.

The doctor, save in the presence of a patient, had no such control
over himself as John Crewys carried from the law-courts, into his life
of every day.

"Why don't you," he said, in fiery tones, "let in air and life, and a
view of the outside world, and as much sunshine as possible into this
musty old house? You have the power, if you had only the will."

"You speak figuratively, I notice," said John. "I should be much
obliged if you would tell me exactly what you mean."

He would have answered in warmer and more kindly tones had Sarah's
words not rung upon his ear.

Was the doctor going to fight Lady Mary's battles now, and with him,
of all people in the world? As though there were any one in the world
to whom her interests could be dearer than--

John stopped short in his thoughts, and looked attentively at the
doctor. His heart smote him. How pallid was that tired face; and the
hollow eyes, how sad and tired too! The doctor had been up all night,
in a wretched isolated cottage, watching a man die--but John did not
know that.

He perceived that this was no meddler, but a man speaking of something
very near his heart; no presuming and interfering outsider who
deserved a snub, but a man suffering from some deep and hidden cause.

The doctor's secret was known to John long before h