rned very pale when I said this, and tears filled her eyes.

"Never mind," I said now, for I could not but be touched by her
extremely pathetic and suffering face, by the look of great illness
which was manifested in every glance. "Never mind now; I am glad you
have told me exactly the terms on which you wish me to approach your
husband; but I think that I can so put matters to Sir Henry that he will
be glad to consult me in my medical capacity."

"Oh, but he does not even know that I suspect his illness. It would
never do for him to know. I suspect! I see! I fear! but I say nothing.
Sir Henry would be much more miserable than he is now, if he thought
that I guessed that there is anything wrong with him."

"It is impossible for me to come to the Grange except as a medical man,"
I answered, firmly. "I will tell Sir Henry that you have seen some
changes in him, and have asked me to visit him as a doctor. Please trust
me. Nothing will be said to your husband that can make matters at all
uncomfortable for you."

Lady Studley did not venture any further remonstrance, and we now
approached the old Grange. It was an irregular pile, built evidently
according to the wants of the different families who had lived in it.
The building was long and rambling, with rows of windows filled up with
panes of latticed glass. In front of the house was a sweeping lawn,
which, even at this time of the year, presented a velvety and well-kept
appearance. We drove rapidly round to the entrance door, and a moment
later I found myself in the presence of my host and patient. Sir Henry
Studley was a tall man with a very slight stoop, and an aquiline and
rather noble face. His eyes were dark, and his forehead inclined to be
bald. There was a courtly, old-world sort of look about him. He greeted
me with extreme friendliness, and we went into the hall, a very large
and lofty apartment, to tea.

Lady Studley was vivacious and lively in the extreme. While she talked,
the hectic spots came out again on her cheeks. My uneasiness about her
increased as I noticed these symptoms. I felt certain that she was not
only consumptive, but in all probability she was even now the victim of
an advanced stage of phthisis. I felt far more anxious about her than
about her husband, who appeared to me at that moment to be nothing more
than a somewhat nervous and hypochondriacal person. This state of things
seemed easy to account for in a scholar and a man of sedentary h