“Here is your money,” she resumed. “Write me out the receipt, or rather, put your name to it. Now mind this, I will help you if you’re meaning to do well; but if I find out anything wrong in this, or hear that you’re in bed again to-morrow, and not fit to lift your head----” “No man can answer for his health,” said young Hesketh solemnly. “I may be bad, I may be dead to-morrow, for anything I can tell.” “That is true.” “And my poor wife a widder, and the poor baby not born.” “In these circumstances,” said Dr. Roland, “we’ll forgive her for what wasn’t her fault, and look after her. But that’s not likely, unless you are fool enough to let yourself be run over, or something of that sort, going out from here.” “Which I won’t, sir, if I can help it.” “And no great loss, either,” the doctor said in his undertone. He watched the payment grimly, and noticed that the young man’s hand shook in signing the receipt. What was the meaning of it? He sat for a moment in silence, while Hesketh’s steps, quickening as he went farther off, were heard going downstairs and towards the door. “I wish I were as sure that money would find its way to the pockets of Fortnum and Mason, as I am that yonder down-looking hound had a criminal grandfather,” he said. “Well, there is the receipt, anyhow. Will you go and inquire?” “To what good? There would be a great fuss, and the young fool would get into prison probably; whereas we may still hope that it is all right, and that he has turned over a new leaf.” “I should not be content without being at the bottom of it,” said Miss Bethune; and then, after a pause: “There is another thing. The lady from South America that was here has been taken ill, Dr. Roland.” “Ah, so!” cried the doctor. “I should like to go and see her.” “You are not wanted to go and see her. It is I--which you will be surprised at--that is wanted, or, rather, Dora with me. I have had an anxious pleader here, imploring me by all that I hold dear. You will say that is not much, doctor.” “I will say nothing of the kind. But I have little confidence in that lady from South America, or her young man.” “The young man is just as fine a young fellow! Doubt as you like, there is no deceit about him; a countenance like the day, and eyes that meet you fair, look at him as you please. Doctor,” said Miss Bethune, faltering a little, “I have taken a great notion into my head that he may turn out to be a near relation of my own.” “A relation of yours?” cried Dr. Roland, suppressing a whistle of astonishment. “My thoughts were going a very different way.” “I know, and your thoughts are justified. The lady did not conceal that she was Mrs. Mannering’s sister: but the one thing does not hinder the other.” “It would be a very curious coincidence--stranger, even, than usual.” “Everything that’s strange is usual,” cried Miss Bethune vehemently. “It is we that have no eyes to see.”