, as you proposed, and did not write a second
time, your affectionate anxiety may have made you fear that she was
ill?"

I have no doubt my affectionate anxiety had led to that melancholy
apprehension at some time or other, but at the moment my wretched
memory entirely failed to remind me of the circumstance. However, I
said yes, in justice to myself. I was much shocked. It was so very
uncharacteristic of such a robust person as dear Marian to be ill, that
I could only suppose she had met with an accident. A horse, or a false
step on the stairs, or something of that sort.

"Is it serious?" I asked.

"Serious--beyond a doubt," he replied. "Dangerous--I hope and trust
not. Miss Halcombe unhappily exposed herself to be wetted through by a
heavy rain. The cold that followed was of an aggravated kind, and it
has now brought with it the worst consequence--fever."

When I heard the word fever, and when I remembered at the same moment
that the unscrupulous person who was now addressing me had just come
from Blackwater Park, I thought I should have fainted on the spot.

"Good God!" I said. "Is it infectious?"

"Not at present," he answered, with detestable composure. "It may turn
to infection--but no such deplorable complication had taken place when
I left Blackwater Park. I have felt the deepest interest in the case,
Mr. Fairlie--I have endeavoured to assist the regular medical attendant
in watching it--accept my personal assurances of the uninfectious
nature of the fever when I last saw it."

Accept his assurances! I never was farther from accepting anything in
my life. I would not have believed him on his oath. He was too yellow
to be believed. He looked like a walking-West-Indian-epidemic. He
was big enough to carry typhus by the ton, and to dye the very carpet
he walked on with scarlet fever. In certain emergencies my mind is
remarkably soon made up. I instantly determined to get rid of him.

"You will kindly excuse an invalid," I said--"but long conferences of
any kind invariably upset me. May I beg to know exactly what the
object is to which I am indebted for the honour of your visit?"

I fervently hoped that this remarkably broad hint would throw him off
his balance--confuse him--reduce him to polite apologies--in short, get
him out of the room. On the contrary, it only settled him in his
chair. He became additionally solemn, and dignified, and confidential.
He held up two of his horrid finge