aid frankly that I should
prefer remaining at the Grange. One glance into the faces of my host and
hostess told me only too plainly that I had two very serious patients on
my hands. Lady Studley looked terribly weak and excited--the hectic
spots on her cheeks, the gleaming glitter of her eyes, the parched lips,
the long, white, emaciated hands, all showed only too plainly the
strides the malady under which she was suffering was making.

"After all, I cannot urge that poor girl to go abroad," I said to
myself. "She is hastening rapidly to her grave, and no power on earth
can save her. She looks as if there were extensive disease of the lungs.
How restless her eyes are, too! I would much rather testify to Sir
Henry's sanity than to hers."

Sir Henry Studley also bore traces of a sleepless night--his face was
bloodless; he averted his eyes from mine; he ate next to nothing.

Immediately after breakfast, I followed Lady Studley into her
morning-room. I had already made up my mind how to act. Her husband
should have my full confidence--she only my partial view of the
situation.

"Well," I said, "I have seen your husband and talked to him. I hope he
will soon be better. I don't think you need be seriously alarmed about
him. Now for yourself, Lady Studley. I am anxious to examine your lungs.
Will you allow me to do so?"

"I suppose Henry has told you I am consumptive?"

"He says you are not well," I answered. "I don't need his word to assure
me of that fact--I can see it with my own eyes. Please let me examine
your chest with my stethoscope."

She hesitated for a moment, looking something like a wild creature
brought to bay. Then she sank into a chair, and with trembling fingers
unfastened her dress. Poor soul, she was almost a walking skeleton--her
beautiful face was all that was beautiful about her. A brief examination
told me that she was in the last stage of phthisis--in short, that her
days were numbered.

"What do you think of me?" she asked, when the brief examination was
over.

"You are ill," I replied.

"How soon shall I die?"

"God only knows that, my dear lady," I answered.

"Oh, you needn't hide your thoughts," she said. "I know that my days are
very few. Oh, if only, if only my husband could come with me! I am so
afraid to go alone, and I am fond of him, very fond of him."

I soothed her as well as I could.

"You ought to have someone to sleep in your room at night," I said. "You
ought not to be