. At
length I felt a cold, firm, but not ungentle hand placed upon mine; and
a clear, full, but not discouraging voice said to me,--

"Leave me to think well over this conversation, and to ponder well the
value of all you have shown that you so deeply feel. The interests of
life do not fill both scales of the balance. The heart, which does not
always go in the same scale with the interests, still has its weight in
the scale opposed to them. I have heard a few wise men say, as many a
silly woman says, 'Better be unhappy with one we love, than be happy
with one we love not.' Do you say that too?"

"With every thought of my brain, every beat of my pulse, I say it."

"After that answer, all my questionings cease. You shall hear from me
to-morrow. By that time, I shall have seen Annie and Lilian. I shall
have weighed both scales of the balance,--and the heart here, Allen
Fenwick, seems very heavy. Go, now. I hear feet on the stairs, Poyntz
bringing up some friendly gossiper; gossipers are spies."

I passed my hand over my eyes, tearless, but how tears would have
relieved the anguish that burdened them! and, without a word, went down
the stairs, meeting at the landing-place Colonel Poyntz and the old man
whose pain my prescription had cured. The old man was whistling a merry
tune, perhaps first learned on the playground. He broke from it to
thank, almost to embrace me, as I slid by him. I seized his jocund
blessing as a good omen, and carried it with me as I passed into the
broad sunlight. Solitary--solitary! Should I be so evermore?

CHAPTER XIII.

The next day I had just dismissed the last of my visiting patients, and
was about to enter my carriage and commence my round, when I received a
twisted note containing but these words:--

Call on me to-day, as soon as you can.

M. Poyntz.

A few minutes afterwards I was in Mrs. Poyntz's drawing-room.

"Well, Allen Fenwick" said she, "I do not serve friends by halves. No
thanks! I but adhere to a principle I have laid down for myself. I spent
last evening with the Ashleighs. Lilian is certainly much altered,--very
weak, I fear very ill, and I believe very unskillfully treated by Dr.
Jones. I felt that it was my duty to insist on a change of physician;
but there was something else to consider before deciding who that
physician should be. I was bound, as your confidante, to consult your
own scruples of honour. Of course I