mmit her irretrievably if she should succeed
(and she would succeed--he had not the slightest doubt of her power to
produce a sensation in the Music Hall), to the acclamations of the
newspapers. He didn't care for her engagements, her campaigns, or all
the expectancy of her friends; to "squelch" all that, at a stroke, was
the dearest wish of his heart. It would represent to him his own
success, it would symbolise his victory. It became a fixed idea with
him, and he warned her again and again. When she laughed and said she
didn't see how he could stop her unless he kidnapped her, he really
pitied her for not perceiving, beneath his ominous pleasantries, the
firmness of his resolution. He felt almost capable of kidnapping her. It
was palpably in the air that she would become "widely popular," and that
idea simply sickened him. He felt as differently as possible about it
from Mr. Matthias Pardon.

One afternoon, as he returned with Verena from a walk which had been
accomplished completely within the prescribed conditions, he saw, from a
distance, Doctor Prance, who had emerged bare-headed from the cottage,
and, shading her eyes from the red, declining sun, was looking up and
down the road. It was part of the regulation that Ransom should separate
from Verena before reaching the house, and they had just paused to
exchange their last words (which every day promoted the situation more
than any others), when Doctor Prance began to beckon to them with much
animation. They hurried forward, Verena pressing her hand to her heart,
for she had instantly guessed that something terrible had happened to
Olive--she had given out, fainted away, perhaps fallen dead, with the
cruelty of the strain. Doctor Prance watched them come, with a curious
look in her face; it was not a smile, but a kind of exaggerated
intimation that she noticed nothing. In an instant she had told them
what was the matter. Miss Birdseye had had a sudden weakness; she had
remarked abruptly that she was dying, and her pulse, sure enough, had
fallen to nothing. She was down on the piazza with Miss Chancellor and
herself, and they had tried to get her up to bed. But she wouldn't let
them move her; she was passing away, and she wanted to pass away just
there, in such a pleasant place, in her customary chair, looking at the
sunset. She asked for Miss Tarrant, and Miss Chancellor told her she was
out--walking with Mr. Ransom. Then she wanted to know if Mr. Ransom was
still