logy and to remain with his
wife. But she would not hear of his abandoning the party on her account.
The doctor also recommended that his patient should be left to her
maid's care, to fall asleep under the influence of the quieting medicine
which he meant to give her. Yielding to this advice, Mr. Carling did his
best to suppress his own anxieties, and went to the dinner-party.

CHAPTER II.

AMONG the guests whom the rector met was a gentleman named Rambert, a
single man of large fortune, well known in the neighborhood of Penliddy
as the owner of a noble country-seat and the possessor of a magnificent
library.

Mr. Rambert (with whom Mr. Carling was well acquainted) greeted him at
the dinner-party with friendly expressions of regret at the time that
had elapsed since they had last seen each other, and mentioned that
he had recently been adding to his collection of books some rare old
volumes of theology, which he thought the rector might find it useful
to look over. Mr. Carling, with the necessity of finishing his
pamphlet uppermost in his mind, replied, jestingly, that the species of
literature which he was just then most interested in examining happened
to be precisely of the sort which (excepting novels, perhaps) had least
affinity to theological writing. The necessary explanation followed this
avowal as a matter of course, and, to Mr. Carling's great delight, his
friend turned on him gayly with the most surprising and satisfactory of
answers:

"You don't know half the resources of my miles of bookshelves," he said,
"or you would never have thought of going to London for what you can
get from me. A whole side of one of my rooms upstairs is devoted to
periodical literature. I have reviews, magazines, and three weekly
newspapers, bound, in each case, from the first number; and, what is
just now more to your purpose, I have the _Times_ for the last fifteen
years in huge half-yearly volumes. Give me the date to-night, and you
shall have the volume you want by two o'clock to-morrow afternoon."

The necessary information was given at once, and, with a great sense
of relief, so far as his literary anxieties were concerned, Mr. Carling
went home early to see what the quieting medicine had done for his wife.

She had dozed a little, but had not slept. However, she was evidently
better, for she was able to take an interest in the sayings and doings
at the dinner-party, and questioned her husband about the guests and