y hope is weaker than it was."

"Ay, ay. Again, I understand! Your science is in fault,--it desponds.
Its last trust is in the wonderful resources of Nature, the vitality
stored in the young!"

"You have said,--those resources of Nature are wondrous. The vitality
of youth is a fountain springing up from the deeps out of sight, when, a
moment before, we had measured the drops oozing out from the sands, and
thought that the well was exhausted."

"Come with me,--come. I told you of another sufferer yonder. I want your
opinion of his case. But can you be spared a few minutes from Lilian's
side?"

"Yes; I left her asleep. What is the case that perplexes your eye of
physician, which is usually keener than mine, despite all the length of
my practice?"

"The sufferer is young, his organization rare in its vigour. He has gone
through and survived assaults upon life that are commonly fatal. His
system has been poisoned by the fangs of a venomous asp, and shattered
by the blast of the plague. These alone, I believe, would not suffice
to destroy him. But he is one who has a strong dread of death; and while
the heart was thus languid and feeble, it has been gnawed by emotions
of hope or of fear. I suspect that he is dying, not from the bite of the
reptile, not from the taint of the pestilence, but from the hope and the
fear that have overtasked the heart's functions. Judge for yourself."

We were now at the door of the hut. I unlocked it: we entered. Margrave
had quitted his bed, and was pacing the room slowly. His step was less
feeble, his countenance less haggard than on the previous evening.

He submitted himself to Faber's questioning with a quiet indifference,
and evidently cared nothing for any opinion which the great physician
might found on his replies.

When Faber had learned all he could, he said, with a grave smile: "I see
that my advice will have little weight with you; such as it is, at least
reflect on it. The conclusions to which your host arrived in his view
of your case, and which he confided to me, are, in my humble judgment,
correct. I have no doubt that the great organ of the heart is
involved in the cause of your sufferings; but the heart is a noble and
much-enduring organ. I have known men in whom it has been more severely
and unequivocally affected with disease than it is in you, live on for
many years, and ultimately die of some other disorder. But then life was
held, as yours must be held, upon one