Everything points to that organ as the seat
of derangement: not that there is any lesion; only a tendency to
congestion. I am treating her accordingly, and have no doubt of the
result."

"Who is the ablest physician hereabouts?" asked Lusignan, abruptly.

"Dr. Snell, I think."

"Give me his address."

"I'll write to him, if you like, and appoint a consultation." He added,
with vast but rather sudden alacrity, "It will be a great satisfaction
to my own mind."

"Then send to him, if you please, and let him be here to-morrow morning;
if not, I shall take her to London for advice at once."

On this understanding they parted, and Lusignan went at once to his
daughter. "O my child!" said he, deeply distressed, "how could you hide
this from me?"

"Hide what, papa?" said the girl, looking the picture of
unconsciousness.

"That you have been spitting blood."

"Who told you that?" said she, sharply.

"Wyman. He is attending you."

Rosa colored with anger. "Chatterbox! He promised me faithfully not to."

"But why, in Heaven's name? What! would you trust this terrible thing to
a stranger, and hide it from your poor father?"

"Yes," replied Rosa, quietly.

The old man would not scold her now; he only said, sadly, "I see how it
is: because I will not let you marry poverty, you think I do not love
you." And he sighed.

"O papa! the idea!" said Rosa. "Of course, I know you love me. It was
not that, you dear, darling, foolish papa. There! if you must know, it
was because I did not want you to be distressed. I thought I might get
better with a little physic; and, if not, why, then I thought, 'Papa is
an old man; la! I dare say I shall last his time;' and so, why should I
poison your latter days with worrying about ME?"

Mr. Lusignan stared at her, and his lip quivered; but he thought the
trait hardly consistent with her superficial character. He could not
help saying, half sadly, half bitterly, "Well, but of course you have
told Dr. Staines."

Rosa opened her beautiful eyes, like two suns. "Of course I have done
nothing of the sort. He has enough to trouble him, without that. Poor
fellow! there he is, worrying and striving to make his fortune, and gain
your esteem--'they go together,' you know; you told him so." (Young cats
will scratch when least expected.) "And for me to go and tell him I am
in danger! Why, he would go wild. He would think of nothing but me and
my health. He would never make his fortune: and so