was a water-carrier."

"A what?" asked the professor quickly, as if he had missed the word.

"A water-carrier, sir."

"Go on."

That he had come from Auvergne--had fallen into a dreadful state of
disease through want of nourishment and fuel during the winter--that he
was now lying without a crust of bread or a particle of fire--and that
she was sure he must die, leaving her and her children to be thrown into
the world. She filled up her short narrative with many harrowing
details, and finished by imploring the surgeon to come and save her
husband if he could. "We will pay you, sir, all that we are able--if he
gets to work again: and if he shouldn't, God, I am sure, will not listen
to your prayers the less because you have helped the unfortunate and the
poor."

Before the woman had told her story, the cheeks of the baron were as
pale as her own--his eyes scarcely less moist. He had put his hand to
his pocket, and when the woman ceased--he drew it out again, and
presented her with a crown-piece.

"Go home," said he "with that. Buy bread and fuel. I will be at your
lodging this afternoon."

The woman was about to exclaim.

"Not a syllable!" said her benefactor, preventing her. "If you thank me,
I will do nothing for you. Go your ways now. I cannot accompany you--for
you see I am very busy; but before the day is out, I will prescribe for
your goodman.--Good-by to you--good-by."

The woman went away without another word.

Before she reached the bottom of the stairs, the baron spoke.

"Mr Walpole--pray be kind enough to call her back!"

She came.

"You must not think me harsh now," proceeded the baron, by way of
apology, "I did not wish to be so. I shall do all I can for you, and
your husband will no doubt be soon quite well again. There, keep your
spirits up, and go home and cheer the good fellow. I shall see you
by-and-by--_Adieu, ma chere_."

The professor continued his lecture; but not for five minutes before he
appeared to be very uneasy at his work. He put his pen down, and sat for
a time full of thought; then he rose and paced the room, and then took
up his pen again; at last, he started from his chair and pulled the
bell.

"Francois," said he to the servant, "let the cabriolet be here
immediately. Yes," he continued, as if speaking to himself, "it will be
better to go at once; the man may be seriously ill. His life may be in
danger. It can be done in an hour--there is plenty of time still for the