“At times it has occurred to me that she has something on her mind,” continued Sir Alexander.  “Upon my delicately hinting this opinion to Lady Hartledon, she denied it with a vehemence which caused me to suspect that I was correct.  Does your lordship know of anything likely to—­to torment her?”

“Not anything,” replied Lord Hartledon, confidently.  “I think I can assure you that there is nothing of the sort.”

And he spoke according to his belief; for he knew of nothing.  He would have supposed it simply impossible that Lady Hartledon had been made privy to the dreadful secret which had weighed on him; and he never gave that a thought.

Sir Alexander nodded, reassured on the point.

“I should wish for a consultation, if your lordship has no objection.”

“Then pray call it without delay.  Have anything, do anything, that may conduce to Lady Hartledon’s recovery.  You do not suspect heart-disease?”

“The symptoms are not those of any heart-disease known to me.  Lady Kirton spoke to me of this; but I see nothing to apprehend at present on that score.  If there’s any latent affection, it has not yet shown itself.  Then we’ll arrange the consultation for to-morrow.”

Sir Alexander Pepps was bowed out; and the consultation took place; which left the matter just where it was before.  The wise doctors thought there was nothing radically wrong; but strongly recommended change of air.  Sir Alexander confidently mentioned Torbay; he had great faith in Torbay; perhaps his lordship could induce Lady Hartledon to try it?  She had flatly told the consultation that she would not try it.

Lady Hartledon was seated in the drawing-room when he went in, willing to do what he could; any urging of his had not gone far with her of late.  A white silk shawl covered her dress of green check silk; she wore a shawl constantly now, having a perpetual tendency to shiver; her handsome features were white and attenuated, but her eyes were brilliant still, and her dark hair was dressed in elaborate braids.

“So you have had the doctors here, Maude,” he remarked, cheerfully.

She nodded a reply, and began to fidget with the body of her gown.  It seemed that she had to do something or other always to her attire whenever he spoke to her—­which partially took away her attention.

“Sir Alexander tells me they have been recommending you Torbay.”

“I am not going to Torbay.”

“Oh yes, you are, Maude,” he soothingly said.  “It will be a change for us all.  The children will benefit by it as much as you, and so shall I.”

“I tell you I shall not go to Torbay.”

“Would you prefer any other place?”

“I will not go anywhere; I have told them so.”

“Then I declare that I’ll carry you off by force!” he cried, rather sharply.  “Why do you vex me like this?  You know you must go?”

She made no reply.  He drew a chair close to her and sat down.