extended; most interesting case, isn't it? I do
wish Fillgrave could have seen it. But, I believe you and Fillgrave
don't quite--eh?"

"No, not quite," said Dr Thorne; who, as he thought of his last
interview with Dr Fillgrave, and of that gentleman's exceeding anger
as he stood in the hall below, could not keep himself from smiling,
sad as the occasion was.

Nothing would induce Lady Scatcherd to go to bed; but the two doctors
agreed to lie down, each in a room on one side of the patient. How
was it possible that anything but good should come to him, being so
guarded? "He is going on finely, Lady Scatcherd, quite finely," were
the last words Mr Rerechild said as he left the room.

And then Dr Thorne, taking Lady Scatcherd's hand and leading her out
into another chamber, told her the truth.

"Lady Scatcherd," said he, in his tenderest voice--and his voice
could be very tender when occasion required it--"Lady Scatcherd, do
not hope; you must not hope; it would be cruel to bid you do so."

"Oh, doctor! oh, doctor!"

"My dear friend, there is no hope."

"Oh, Dr Thorne!" said the wife, looking wildly up into her
companion's face, though she hardly yet realised the meaning of what
he said, although her senses were half stunned by the blow.

"Dear Lady Scatcherd, is it not better that I should tell you the
truth?"

"Oh, I suppose so; oh yes, oh yes; ah me! ah me! ah me!" And then she
began rocking herself backwards and forwards on her chair, with her
apron up to her eyes. "What shall I do? what shall I do?"

"Look to Him, Lady Scatcherd, who only can make such grief
endurable."

"Yes, yes, yes; I suppose so. Ah me! ah me! But, Dr Thorne, there
must be some chance--isn't there any chance? That man says he's going
on so well."

"I fear there is no chance--as far as my knowledge goes there is no
chance."

"Then why does that chattering magpie tell such lies to a woman? Ah
me! ah me! ah me! oh, doctor! doctor! what shall I do? what shall I
do?" and poor Lady Scatcherd, fairly overcome by her sorrow, burst
out crying like a great school-girl.

And yet what had her husband done for her that she should thus weep
for him? Would not her life be much more blessed when this cause of
all her troubles should be removed from her? Would she not then be a
free woman instead of a slave? Might she not then expect to begin to
taste the comforts of life? What had that harsh tyrant of hers done
that was good or serviceable for