did not appear to listen with much interest to
what Mr. Dawson said, while he was examining
Mr. Dawson's patient. I began to suspect,
from what I observed in this way, that the
Count had been right about the illness all the
way through; and I was naturally confirmed in
that idea, when Mr. Dawson, after some little
delay, asked the one important question which
the London doctor had been sent for to set at
rest.

"What is your opinion of the fever?" he
inquired.

"Typhus," replied the physician. "Typhus
fever beyond all doubt."

That quiet foreign person, Mrs. Rubelle,
crossed her thin, brown hands in front of her,
and looked at me with a very significant smile.
The Count himself could hardly have appeared
more gratified, if he had been present in the
room, and had heard the confirmation of his own
opinion.

After giving us some useful directions about
the management of the patient, and mentioning
that he would come again in five days' time, the
physician withdrew to consult in private with
Mr. Dawson. He would offer no opinion on
Miss Halcombe's chances of recovery: he said
it was impossible at that stage of the illness to
pronounce, one way or the other.

The five days passed anxiously.

Countess Fosco and myself took it by turns
to relieve Mrs. Rubelle; Miss Halcombe's
condition growing worse and worse, and requiring our
utmost care and attention. It was a terribly
trying time. Lady Glyde (supported as Mr.
Dawson said, by the constant strain of her
suspense on her sister's account) rallied in the most
extraordinary manner, and showed a firmness and
determination for which I should myself never
have given her credit. She insisted on coming
into the sick-room, two or three times every
day, to look at Miss Halcombe with her own
eyes; promising not to go too close to the bed,
if the doctor would consent to her wishes, so
far. Mr. Dawson very unwillingly made the
concession required of him: I think he saw that
it was hopeless to dispute with her. She came
in every day; and she self-denyingly kept her
promise. I felt it personally so distressing (as
reminding me of my own affliction during my
husband's last illness) to see how she suffered
under these circumstances, that I must beg not
to dwell on this part of the subject any longer.
It is more agreeable to me to mention that no
fresh disputes took place between Mr. Dawson
and the Count. His lordship made all his
inquiries by deputy; and remained continually in
company with Sir Percival, down stairs.

On the fifth day, the physician came again,
and gave us a little hope. He said the tenth day
from the first appearance of the typhus would
probably decide the result of the illness, and he
arranged for his third visit to take place on that
date. The interval passed as before—except
that the Count went to London again, one
morning, and returned at night.

On the tenth day, it pleased a merciful Providence
to relieve our household from all further
anxiety and alarm. The physician positively
assured us that Miss Halcombe was out of
danger. "She wants no doctor, now—all she
requires is careful watching and nursing, for
some time to come; and that I see she has."
Those were his own words. That evening I
read my husband's touching sermon on
Recovery from Sickness, with more happiness and
advantage (in a spiritual point of view) than I
ever remember to have derived from it before.

The effect of the good news on poor Lady
Glyde was, I grieve to say, quite overpowering.
She was too weak to bear the violent reaction;
and, in another day or two, she sank into a state
of debility and depression, which obliged her to
keep her room. Rest and quiet, and change of
air afterwards, were the best remedies which
Mr. Dawson could suggest for her benefit. It
was fortunate that matters were no worse, for,
on the very day after she took to her room, the
Count and the doctor had another disagreement;
and, this time, the dispute between them was of
so serious a nature, that Mr. Dawson left the
house.

I was not present at the time; but I understood
that the subject of the dispute was the
amount of nourishment which it was necessary
to give to assist Miss Halcombe's convalescence,
after the exhaustion of the fever. Mr. Dawson,
now that his patient was safe, was less inclined
than ever to submit to unprofessional interference;
and the Count (I cannot imagine why) lost
all the self-control which he had so judiciously
preserved on former occasions, and taunted the
doctor, over and over again, with his mistake
about the fever, when it changed to typhus. The
unfortunate affair ended in Mr. Dawson's appealing
to Sir Percival, and threatening (now that he
could leave without absolute danger to Miss
Halcombe) to withdraw from his attendance at
Blackwater Park, if the Count's interference was not
peremptorily suppressed from that moment. Sir
Percival's reply (though not designedly uncivil)
had only resulted in making matters worse;
and Mr. Dawson had thereupon withdrawn
from the house, in a state of extreme indignation
at Count Fosco's usage of him, and had sent in
his bill the next morning.

We were now, therefore, left without the
attendance of a medical man. Although there
was no actual necessity for another doctor—
nursing and watching being, as the physician
had observed, all that Miss Halcombe required
—I should still, if my authority had been
consulted, have obtained professional assistance,
from some other quarter, for form's sake.

The matter did not seem to strike Sir Percival
in that light. He said it would be time enough
to send for another doctor, if Miss Halcombe
showed any signs of a relapse. In the mean
while, we had the Count to consult in any minor
difficulty; and we need not unnecessarily
disturb our patient, in her present weak and
nervous condition, by the presence of a stranger at
her bedside. There was much that was reasonable