te. I want Barney to see me well."

It was a marvel to all the house how she kept her word. Every hour,
every minute, she appeared to gain strength. She ate with relish and
slept like a child. The old feverish restlessness left her, and she laid
aside many of her invalid ways.

"You are going down to Glasgow to-morrow, I suppose, Charrington?" said
Alan on Thursday, after the Silurian had been reported.

"I've just been thinking," replied Jack, with careful deliberation,
"that it would be almost better you should go, Ruthven. You see you're
the man of the house, and it would be easier for a stranger to tell
him."

"Come, Charrington," replied his friend, "you don't often play the
coward. You've simply got to go. But why should you tell?"

"Tell? He'll see it in my face. That last report of Bruce Fraser's he
would read in my eyes. I see the ghastly words yet, 'Quite hopeless.
Heart seriously involved. Cannot be long delayed.' I say, old man, I
suppose I ought to go, but you've got to come along and make talk. I'll
simply blubber right out when I see him. You know I'm awfully fond of
the old boy."

"I say, Charrington, I've got it! Take my aunt with you."

Jack gasped. "By Jove! The very thing! It's rough on her, but she's the
saintly kind that delights to bear other people's burdens."

And so it was arranged that Jack and Lady Ruthven should meet the boat
and bring Barney, with all speed, to Ruthven Hall.

At the Silurian's gangway Jack received his friend with outstretched
hands, crying, "Barney, old boy, we're glad to see you! Here, let me
present you to Lady Ruthven, at whose house Iola is staying." With
feverish haste he hurried Barney through the crowds, bustling hither
and thither about his luggage and giving himself not a moment for
conversation till they were seated in the first-class apartment carriage
that was to carry them to Craigraven. But they had hardly got settled
in their places when the conversation, in spite of all Jack's efforts,
dropped to silence.

"You have bad news for me," said Barney, looking Lady Ruthven steadily
in the face. "Has anything happened?"

"No, Dr. Boyle," replied Lady Ruthven, a little more quickly than was
her wont, "but--" and here she paused, shrinking from delivering the
mortal stab, "but we are anxious about our dear Iola."

"Tell me the worst, Lady Ruthven," said Barney.

"That is all. We are very anxious. It is her lungs chiefly and her
heart. But she is ve