a few hours after Robert's arrival), Edmondson came up to see him and
examine him. He discovered tubercular disease of the larynx, which
begins with slight hoarseness and weariness, and develops into one of
the most rapid forms of phthisis. In his opinion it had been originally
set up by the effects of that chill at Petites Dalles acting upon a
constitution never strong, and at that moment peculiarly susceptible
to mischief. And of course the speaking and preaching of the last four
months had done enormous harm.

It was with great outward composure that Elsmere received his _arret de
mort_ at the hands of the young doctor, who announced the result of his
examination with a hesitating lip and a voice which struggled in vain to
preserve its professional calm. He knew too much of medicine himself to
be deceived by Edmondson's optimist remarks as to the possible effect of
a warm climate like Algiers on his condition. He sat down, resting his
head on his hands a moment; then wringing Edmondson's hand, he went out
feebly to find his Wife.

Catherine had been waiting in the dining-room, her whole soul one dry,
tense misery. She stood looking out of the window, taking curious heed
of a Jewish wedding that was going on in the Square, of the preposterous
bouquets of the coachman and the gaping circle of errand-boys. How
pinched the bride looked in the north wind!

When the door opened and Catherine saw her husband come in--her young
husband, to whom she had been married not yet four years--with that
indescribable look in the eyes which seemed to divine and confirm all
those terrors which had been shaking her during her agonized waiting,
there followed a moment between them which words cannot render. When it
ended--that half-articulate convulsion of love and anguish--she found
herself sitting on the sofa beside him, his head on her breast, his hand
clasping hers.

'Do you wish me to go, Catherine?' he asked her gently, '--to Algiers?'

Her eyes implored for her.

'Then I will,' he said, but with a long sigh. 'It will only prolong it
two months,' he thought; 'and does one not owe it to the people for whom
one has tried to live, to make a brave end among them? Ah, no! no! those
two months are hers!'

So, without any outward resistance, he let the necessary preparations be
made. It wrung his heart to go, but he could not wring hers by staying.

After his interview wit Robert, and his further interview with
Catherine, to whom