in the individual.  What was any spoiled, sweet young girl to that?  And Mrs. Ewing was, in truth, a wonderful creature.  She was a large woman with a great quantity of blue-black hair, which had the ripples one sees in antique statues.  Her eyes, black at first glance, were in reality dark blue.  Her face gave one a never-ending surprise.  James had not known that a woman could be so beautiful.  Vague comparisons with the Greek Helen, or Cleopatra, came into his head.  Now and then he stole a glance at her.  He dared not often.  She did not talk much, but he was rather pleased with that fact, although her voice was so sweet and gracious.  Speech in a creature like that was not an essential.  It might even be an excrescence upon a perfection.  It did not occur to the dazed mind of her worshipper that Mrs. Ewing might have very simple and ordinary reasons for not talking—­that she might be tired or ill, or preoccupied.  But after a number of those stolen glances, James discovered with a great pang, as if one should see for the first time that the arms of the Venus were really gone, when his fancy had supplied them, that the woman did not look well.  In spite of her beauty, there was ill-health evident in her face.  James was a mere tyro in his profession as yet, but certain infallible signs were there which he could not mistake.  They were the signs of suffering, possibly of very great suffering.  She ate very little, James noticed, although she made a pretense of eating as much as any one.  James saw that Doctor Gordon also noticed it.  When the maid was taking away Mrs. Ewing’s plate, he spoke with a gruffness which astonished the young man.  “For Heaven’s sake, why don’t you eat your dinner, Clara?” said he.  “Emma, replace Mrs. Ewing’s plate.  Now, Clara, eat your dinner.”  To James’s utter astonishment, Mrs. Ewing obeyed like a child.  She ate every morsel, although she could not restrain her expression of loathing.  When the salad and dessert were brought on she ate them also.

Doctor Gordon watched her with what seemed, to the young man, positive brutality.  His mouth under his heavy beard quivered perceptibly whenever he looked at his sister eating, his forehead became corrugated, and his deep-set eyes sparkled.  James was heartily glad when dinner was over, and, at Doctor Gordon’s request, he followed him into his office.

Doctor Gordon’s office was a small room at the back of the house.  It had an outer door communicating with a path which led to the stable.  Two sides of the room were lined with medical books, and two with bottles containing diverse colored mixtures.  A hanging lamp was over the center of a long table in the middle of the room.  Around it dangled prisms, which cast rainbow colors over everything.  The first thing which struck one on entering the room was the extraordinary color scheme:  the dull gleams of the books, the medicine bottles which had lights like jewels, and over all the flickers of prismatic