nt forth into the garden. Involuntarily
we took the way to the Monk's Well, and at every step Lilian seemed to
revive under the bracing air and temperate sun. We paused by the well.

"You do not feel fatigued, Miss Ashleigh?"

"No."

"But your face seems changed. It is grown sadder."

"Not sadder."

"Sadder than when I first saw it,--saw it when you were seated here!" I
said this in a whisper. I felt her hand tremble as it lay on my arm.

"You saw me seated here!"

"Yes. I will tell you how some day."

Lilian lifted her eyes to mine, and there was in them that same surprise
which I had noticed on my first visit,--a surprise that perplexed me,
blended with no displeasure, but yet with a something of vague alarm.

We soon returned to the house.

Mrs. Ashleigh made me a sign to follow her into the drawing-room,
leaving Mrs. Poyntz with Lilian.

"Well?" said she, tremblingly.

"Permit me to see Dr. Jones's prescriptions. Thank you. Ay, I thought
so. My dear madam, the mistake here has been in depressing nature
instead of strengthening; in narcotics instead of stimulants. The main
stimulants which leave no reaction are air and light. Promise me that I
may have my own way for a week,--that all I recommend will be implicitly
heeded?"

"I promise. But that cough,--you noticed it?"

"Yes. The nervous system is terribly lowered, and nervous exhaustion is
a strange impostor; it imitates all manner of complaints with which
it has no connection. The cough will soon disappear! But pardon my
question. Mrs. Poyntz tells me that you consulted a clairvoyants about
your daughter. Does Miss Ashleigh know that you did so?"

"No; I did not tell her."

"I am glad of that. And pray, for Heaven's sake, guard her against all
that may set her thinking on such subjects. Above all, guard her against
concentring attention on any malady that your fears erroneously ascribe
to her. It is amongst the phenomena of our organization that you cannot
closely rivet your consciousness on any part of the frame, however
healthy, but it will soon begin to exhibit morbid sensibility. Try
to fix all your attention on your little finger for half an hour, and
before the half hour is over the little finger will be uneasy, probably
even painful. How serious, then, is the danger to a young girl, at the
age in which imagination is most active, most intense, if you force
upon her a belief that she is in danger of a mortal disease! It is a
peculiarity