"Dr. Anderson wants to speak to you, Westenra," she said. She rushed past me as she spoke, and I could not catch sight of her face, so I went into her little sitting-room, where both the doctors were waiting for me, and closed the door behind me. I was not at all anxious. I quite believed that mother's ailment was simply want of appetite and weakness, and I had never heard of any one dying just from those causes. "Let me introduce you to Dr. Reade," said Dr. Anderson. I looked then towards the great consulting physician. He was standing with his back to the light--he was a little man, younger looking than Dr. Anderson. His hair was only beginning to turn grey, and was falling away a trifle from his temples, and he was very upright, and very thin, and had keen eyes, the keenest eyes I had ever looked at, small, grey and bright, and those eyes seemed to look through you, as though they were forcing a gimlet into the very secrets of your soul. His face was so peculiar, so intellectual, so sharp and keen, and his glance so vivid, that I became absorbed in looking at it, and forgot for the moment Dr. Anderson. Then I glanced round and found that he had vanished, and I was alone with Dr. Reade. "Won't you sit down, Miss Wickham?" he said kindly. I seated myself, and then seeing that his eyes were still on me, my heart began to beat a little more quickly, and I began to feel uncomfortable and anxious, and then I knew that I must brace myself up to listen to something which would be hard to bear. "I was called in to-day," said Dr. Reade, "to see your mother. I have examined her carefully--Dr. Anderson thinks that it may be best for you Miss Wickham--you seem to be a very brave sort of girl--to know the truth." "Yes, I should like to know the truth," I answered. I found these words coming out of my lips slowly, and I found I had difficulty in saying them, and my eyes seemed not to see quite so clearly as usual; and Dr. Reade's keen face seemed to vanish as if behind a mist, but then the mist cleared off, and I remembered that I was father's daughter and that it behoved me to act gallantly if occasion should require, so I got up and went towards the little doctor, and said in a quiet voice-- "You need not mind breaking it to me; I see by your face that you have bad news, but I assure you I am not going to cry nor be hysterical. Please tell me the truth quickly." "I knew you were a brave girl," he said with admiration, "and I have bad news, your mother's case is----" "What?" I asked. "A matter of time," he replied gravely; "she may live for a few months or a year--a year is the outside limit."