letter, which was, as she expected, about the executors' business,
but glancing on to the end, she exclaimed,--

'Ah! here it is. Listen, Charlie. "Mr. Morville has been here for
the last few weeks, and is, I fear, very unwell. He has been entirely
confined to the house, almost ever since his arrival, by violent
headache, which has completely disabled him from attending to business;
but he will not call in any advice. I make a point of going to see him
every day, though I believe my presence is anything but acceptable, as
in his present state of health and spirits, I cannot think it right that
he should be left to servants." Poor fellow! Redclyffe has been too much
for him.'

'Over-worked, I suppose,' said Charles. 'I thought he was coming it
pretty strong these last few weeks.'

'Not even writing to Laura! How very bad he must be! I will write at
once to ask Mr. Markham for more particulars.'

She did so, and on the third day they drove again to fetch the answer.
It was a much worse account. Mr. Morville was, said Markham, suffering
dreadfully from headache, and lay on the sofa all day, almost unable to
speak or move, but resolved against having medical advice, though his
own treatment of himself did not at all succeed in relieving him. There
was extreme depression of spirits, and an unwillingness to see any one.
He had positively refused to admit either Lord Thorndale or Mr. Ashford,
and would hardly bear to see Markham himself, who, indeed, only forced
his presence on him from thinking it unfit to leave him entirely to the
servants, and would be much relieved if some of Mr. Morville's friends
were present to free him from the responsibility.

'Hem!' said Charles. 'I can't say it sounds comfortable.'

'It is just as I feared!' said Amy. 'Great excitability of brain and
nerve, Dr. Mayerne said. All the danger of a brain fever again! Poor
Laura! What is to be done?'

Charles was silent.

'It is for want of some one to talk to him,' said Amabel. 'I know how
he broods over his sad recollections, and Redclyffe must make it so much
worse. If mamma and Laura were but at home to go to him, it might save
him, and it would be fearful for him to have another illness, reduced as
he is. How I wish he was here!'

'He cannot come, I suppose,' said Charles, 'or he would be in Ireland.'

'Yes. How well Guy knew when he said it would be worse for him than for
me! How I wish I could do something now to make up for running awa