nothing either. I never detected a sign of the
medicine bottles being tampered with; I never
saw Mrs. Rubelle say a word to the Count, or
the Count to her. She managed Miss Halcombe
with unquestionable care and discretion. The
poor lady wavered backwards and forwards
between a sort of sleepy exhaustion which was
half faintness and half slumbering, and attacks
of fever which brought with them more or less
of wandering in her mind. Mrs. Rubelle never
disturbed her in the first case, and never startled
her, in the second, by appearing too suddenly
at the bedside in the character of a stranger.
Honour to whom honour is due (whether
foreign or English)—and I give her privilege
impartially to Mrs. Rubelle. She was remarkably
uncommunicative about herself, and she was
too quietly independent of all advice from
experienced persons who understood the duties of a
sick-room—but, with these drawbacks, she was
a good nurse; and she never gave either Lady
Glyde or Mr. Dawson the shadow of a reason
for complaining of her.

The next circumstance of importance that
occurred in the house was the temporary
absence of the Count, occasioned by business
which took him to London. He went away (I
think) on the morning of the fourth day after
the arrival of Mrs. Rubelle; and, at parting, he
spoke to Lady Glyde, very seriously, in my
presence, on the subject of Miss Halcombe.

"Trust Mr. Dawson," he said, "for a few
more, if you please. But, if there is not
some change for the better, in that time, send for
advice from London, which this mule of a
doctor must accept in spite of himself. Offend
Mr. Dawson, and save Miss Halcombe. I say
those words seriously, on my word of honour
and from the bottom of my heart."

His lordship spoke with extreme feeling and
kindness. But poor Lady Glyde's nerves were
so completely broken down that she seemed
quite frightened at him. She trembled from
head to foot; and allowed him to take his leave,
without uttering a word on her side. She turned
to me, when he had gone, and said, "Oh, Mrs.
Michelson, I am heart-broken about my sister,
and I have no friend to advise me! Do you
think Mr. Dawson is wrong? He told me himself,
this morning, that there was no fear, and no
need of fresh advice."

"With all respect to Mr. Dawson," I
answered, "in your ladyship's place, I should
remember the Count's advice."

Lady Glyde turned away from me suddenly,
with an appearance of despair, for which I was
quite unable to account.

"His advice!" she said to herself. "God
help us—his advice!"

The Count was away from Blackwater Park,
as nearly as I remember, a week.

Sir Percival seemed to feel the loss of his
lordship in various ways, and appeared also, I
thought, much depressed and altered by the
sickness and sorrow in the house. Occasionally,
he was so very restless, that I could not help
noticing it; coming and going, and wandering
here and there and everywhere in the grounds.
His inquiries about Miss Halcombe, and about his
lady (whose failing health seemed to cost him
sincere anxiety), were most attentive. I think
his heart was much softened. If some kind
clerical friend—some such friend as he might
have found in my late excellent husband—had
been near him at this time, cheering moral
progress might have been made with Sir
Percival. I seldom find myself mistaken on a
point of this sort; having had experience to
guide me in my happy married days.

Her ladyship, the Countess, who was now
the only company for Sir Percival down stairs,
rather neglected him, as I considered. Or,
perhaps, it might have been that he neglected her.
A stranger might almost have supposed that they
were bent, now they were left together alone, on
actually avoiding one another. This, of course,
could not be. But it did so happen, nevertheless,
that the Countess made her dinner at
luncheon-time, and that she always came
upstairs towards evening, although Mrs. Rubelle
had taken the nursing duties entirely off her
hands. Sir Percival dined by himself; and
William (the man out of livery) made the
remark, in my hearing, that his master had put
himself on half rations of food and on a double
allowance of drink. I attach no importance to
such an insolent observation as this, on the part
of a servant. I reprobated it at the time; and
I wish to be understood as reprobating it once
more, on this occasion.

In the course of the next few days, Miss
Halcombe did certainly seem to all of us to be
mending a little. Our faith in Mr. Dawson
revived. He seemed to be very confident about
the case; and he assured Lady Glyde, when she
spoke to him on the subject, that he would himself
propose to send for a physician, the moment
he felt so much as the shadow of a doubt crossing
his own mind.

The only person among us who did not appear
to be relieved by these words, was the Countess.
She said to me privately that she could not
feel easy about Miss Halcombe, on Mr. Dawson's
authority, and that she should wait anxiously for
her husband's opinion, on his return. That
return, his letters informed her, would take
place in three days' time. The Count and
Countess corresponded regularly every morning,
during his lordship's absence. They were
in that respect, as in all others, a pattern to
married people.

On the evening of the third day, I noticed a
change in Miss Halcombe, which caused me
serious apprehension. Mrs. Rubelle noticed it
too. We said nothing on the subject to Lady
Glyde, who was then lying asleep, completely
overpowered by exhaustion, on the sofa in the
sitting-room.

Mr. Dawson did not pay his evening visit
till later than usual. As soon as he set eyes
on his patient, I saw his face alter. He tried
to hide it; but he looked both confused and
alarmed. A messenger was sent to his