ain; the constitution of the patient must have received some serious
shock; he was brought very low. Having carefully reported the new
medical opinion, Regina was at liberty to indulge herself, next, in
expressions of affection, and to assure Amelius of her anxiety to
hear from him as soon as possible. But, in this case again, the "dear
uncle's" convenience was still the first consideration. She reverted to
Mr. Farnaby, in making her excuses for a hurriedly written letter. The
poor invalid suffered from depression of spirits; his great consolation
in his illness was to hear his niece read to him: he was calling for
her, indeed, at that moment. The inevitable postscript warmed into a
mild effusion of fondness, "How I wish you could be with us. But, alas,
it cannot be!"

Amelius copied the address on the letter, and sent it to Mr. Melton
immediately.

It was then the twenty-fourth day of the month. The tidal train did not
leave London early that morning; and the inquest was deferred, to suit
other pressing engagements of the coroner, until the twenty-sixth. Mr.
Melton decided, after his interview with Amelius, that the emergency was
sufficiently serious to justify him in following his telegram to Paris.
It was clearly his duty, as an old friend, to mention to Mr. Farnaby
what he had discovered at the cottage, as well as what he had heard from
the landlady and the doctor; leaving it to the uncle's discretion to act
as he thought right in the interests of the niece. Whether that course
of action might not also serve the interests of Mr. Melton himself, in
the character of an unsuccessful suitor for Regina's hand, he did not
stop to inquire. Beyond his duty it was, for the present at least, not
his business to look.

That night, the two gentlemen held a private consultation in Paris; the
doctor having previously certified that his patient was incapable of
supporting the journey back to London, under any circumstances.

The question of the formal proceedings rendered necessary by Mrs.
Farnaby's death having been discussed and disposed of, Mr. Melton
next entered on the narrative which the obligations of friendship
imperatively demanded from him. To his astonishment and alarm, Mr.
Farnaby started up in the bed like a man panic-stricken. "Did you say,"
he stammered, as soon as he could speak, "you mean to make inquiries
about that--that girl?"

"I certainly thought it desirable, bearing in mind Mr. Goldenheart's
position