then, even when I
am gone, he will never get a wife, because he has only got genius and
goodness and three thousand pounds. No, papa, I have not told poor
Christopher. I may tease those I love. I have been teasing YOU this ever
so long; but frighten them, and make them miserable? No!"

And here, thinking of the anguish that was perhaps in store for those
she loved, she wanted to cry; it almost choked her not to. But she
fought it bravely down: she reserved her tears for lighter occasions and
less noble sentiments.

Her father held out his arms to her. She ran her footstool to him, and
sat nestling to his heart.

"Please forgive me my misconduct. I have not been a dutiful daughter
ever since you--but now I will. Kiss me, my own papa! There! Now we are
as we always were."

Then she purred to him on every possible topic but the one that now
filled his parental heart, and bade him good-night at last with a
cheerful smile.

Wyman was exact, and ten minutes afterwards Dr. Snell drove up in a
carriage and pair. He was intercepted in the hall by Wyman, and, after a
few minutes' conversation, presented to Mr. Lusignan.

The father gave vent to his paternal anxiety in a few simple but
touching words, and was proceeding to state the symptoms as he had
gathered them from his daughter; but Dr. Snell interrupted him politely,
and said he had heard the principal symptoms from Mr. Wyman. Then,
turning to the latter, he said, "We had better proceed to examine the
patient."

"Certainly," said Mr. Lusignan. "She is in the drawing-room;" and he led
the way, and was about to enter the room, when Wyman informed him it was
against etiquette for him to be present at the examination.

"Oh, very well!" said he. "Yes, I see the propriety of that. But oblige
me by asking her if she has anything on her mind."

Dr. Snell bowed a lofty assent; for, to receive a hint from a layman was
to confer a favor on him.

The men of science were closeted full half an hour with the patient. She
was too beautiful to be slurred over, even by a busy doctor: he felt her
pulse, looked at her tongue, and listened attentively to her lungs, to
her heart, and to the organ suspected by Wyman. He left her at last with
a kindly assurance that the case was perfectly curable.

At the door they were met by the anxious father, who came with throbbing
heart, and asked the doctors' verdict.

He was coolly informed that could not be given until the consultation
had