residence for his medicine-chest, disinfecting
preparations were used in the room, and a bed was
made up for him in the house by his own directions.
"Has the fever turned to infection?"
I whispered to him. "I am afraid it has," he
answered; "we shall know better to-morrow
morning."

By Mr. Dawson's own directions Lady Glyde
was kept in ignorance of this change for the
worse. He himself absolutely forbade her, on
account of her health, to join us in the bedroom
that night. She tried to resist—there was a sad
scene—but he had his medical authority to
support him; and he carried his point.

The next morning, one of the men servants
was sent to London, at eleven o'clock, with a
letter to a physician in town, and with orders to
bring the new doctor back with him by the
earliest possible train. Half an hour after the
messenger had gone, the Count returned to
Blackwater Park.

The Countess, on her own responsibility,
immediately brought him in to see the patient.
There was no impropriety that I could discover
in her taking this course. His lordship was a
married man; he was old enough to be Miss
Halcombe's father; and he saw her in the
presence of a female relative, Lady Glyde's aunt.
Mr. Dawson nevertheless protested against his
presence in the room; but, I could plainly
remark the doctor was too much alarmed to make
any serious resistance on this occasion.

The poor suffering lady was past knowing any
one about her. She seemed to take her friends
for enemies. When the Count approached her
bedside, her eyes, which had been wandering
incessantly round and round the room before,
settled on his face, with a dreadful stare of terror,
which I shall remember to my dying day. The
Count sat down by her; felt her pulse, and her
temples; looked at her very attentively; and then
turned round upon the doctor with such an
expression of indignation and contempt in his face,
that the words failed on Mr. Dawson's lips, and
he stood, for a moment, pale with anger and
alarm—pale and perfectly speechless.

His lordship looked next at me.

"When did the change happen?" he asked.

I told him the time.

"Has Lady Glyde been in the room since?"

I replied that she had not. The doctor had
absolutely forbidden her to come into the room,
on the evening before, and had repeated the
order again in the morning.

"Have you and Mrs. Rubelle been made aware
of the full extent of the mischief?"—was his
next question.

We were aware, I answered, that the
malady was considered infectious. He stopped me,
before I could add anything more.

"It is Typhus Fever," he said.

In the minute that passed, while these
questions and answers were going on, Mr. Dawson
recovered himself, and addressed the Count,
with his customary firmness.

"It is not typhus fever," he said, sharply.
"I protest against this intrusion, sir. No one
has a right to put questions here, but me.
I have done my duty to the best of my
ability——"

The Count interrupted him, not by words,
but only by pointing to the bed. Mr. Dawson
seemed to feel that silent contradiction to his
assertion of his own ability, and to grow only the
more angry under it.

"I say I have done my duty," he reiterated.
"A physician has been sent for from London. I
will consult on the nature of the fever with him,
and with no one else. I insist on your leaving
the room."

"I entered this room, sir, in the sacred
interests of humanity," said the Count. "And in
the same interests, if the coming of the
physician is delayed, I will enter it again. I warn
you once more that the fever has turned to
Typhus, and that your treatment is responsible
for this lamentable change. If that unhappy
lady dies, I will give my testimony in a court of
justice that your ignorance and obstinacy have
been the cause of her death."

Before Mr. Dawson could answer, before the
Count could leave us, the door was opened from
the sitting-room, and we saw Lady Glyde on the
threshold.

"I must, and will come in," she said, with
extraordinary firmness.

Instead of stopping her, the Count moved
into the sitting-room, and made way for her to
go in. On all other occasions, he was the last
man in the world to forget anything; but, in
the surprise of the moment, he apparently forgot
the danger of infection from typhus, and the
urgent necessity of forcing Lady Glyde to take
proper care of herself.

To my surprise, Mr. Dawson showed more
presence of mind. He stopped her ladyship at
the first step she took towards the bedside.

"I am sincerely sorry, I am sincerely grieved,"
he said. "The fever may, I fear, be infectious.
Until I am certain that it is not, I entreat you
to keep out of the room."

She struggled for a moment; then suddenly
dropped her arms, and sank forward. She had
fainted. The Countess and I took her from the
doctor, and carried her into her own room. The
Count preceded us, and waited in the passage,
till I came out, and told him that we had
recovered her from the swoon.

I went back to the doctor to tell him, by
Lady Glyde's desire, that she insisted on speaking
to him immediately. He withdrew at once
to quiet her ladyship's agitation, and to assure
her of the physician's arrival in the course of
a few hours. Those hours passed very slowly.
Sir Percival and the Count were together down
stairs, and sent up, from time to time, to make
their inquiries. At last, between five and six
o'clock, to our great relief, the physician came.

He was a younger man than Mr. Dawson;
very serious, and very decided. What he
thought of the previous treatment, I cannot
say; but it struck me as curious that he put
many more questions to myself and to Mrs.
Rubelle than he put to the doctor, and that he