eave to occupy
a minute more of his time. My object was, of course, to speak about
Eunice.

The change of subject seemed to be agreeable to Mr. Wellwood. He smiled
good-humoredly.

"You need feel no alarm about the health of that interesting girl,"
he said. "When she complained to me--at her age!--of not being able to
sleep, I should have taken it more seriously if I had been told that she
too had her troubles, poor little soul. Love-troubles, most likely--but
don't forget that my professional limits keep me in the dark! Have you
heard that she took some composing medicine, which I had prescribed for
her father? The effect (certain, in any case, to be injurious to a young
girl) was considerably aggravated by the state of her mind at the time.
A dream that frightened her, and something resembling delirium, seems to
have followed. And she made matters worse, poor child, by writing in her
diary about the visions and supernatural appearances that had terrified
her. I was afraid of fever, on the day when they first sent for me. We
escaped that complication, and I was at liberty to try the best of all
remedies--quiet and change of air. I have no fears for Miss Eunice."

With that cheering reply he went up to the Minister's room.

All that I had found perplexing in Eunice was now made clear. I
understood how her agony at the loss of her lover, and her keen sense
of the wrong that she had suffered, had been strengthened in their
disastrous influence by her experiment on the sleeping draught intended
for her father. In mind and body, both, the poor girl was in the
condition which offered its opportunity to the lurking hereditary
taint. It was terrible to think of what might have happened, if the
all-powerful counter-influence had not been present to save her.

Before I had been long alone the servant-maid came in, and said the
doctor wanted to see me.

Mr. Wellwood was waiting in the passage, outside the Minister's
bedchamber. He asked if he could speak to me without interruption, and
without the fear of being overheard. I led him at once to the room which
I occupied as a guest.

"At the very time when it is most important to keep Mr. Gracedieu
quiet," he said, "something has happened to excite--I might almost say
to infuriate him. He has left his bed, and is walking up and down the
room; and, I don't scruple to say, he is on the verge of madness. He
insists on seeing you. Being wholly unable to control him in any
other