Mr. Lusignan crept nearer, and stood with both hands on a table, and his old head bowed, awaiting yet dreading the verdict. Up to this time, Dr. Staines, instead of tapping and squeezing, and pulling the patient about, had never touched her with his hand, and only grazed her with his ear; but now he said “Allow me,” and put both hands to her waist, more lightly and reverently than I can describe; “Now draw a deep breath, if you please.” “There!” “If you could draw a deeper still,” said he, insinuatingly. “There, then!” said she, a little pettishly. Dr. Staines's eye kindled. “Hum!” said he. Then, after a considerable pause, “Are you better or worse after each hemorrhage?” “La!” said Rosa; “they never asked me that. Why, better.” “No faintness?” “Not a bit.” “Rather a sense of relief, perhaps?” “Yes; I feel lighter and better.” The examination was concluded. Dr. Staines looked at Rosa, and then at her father. The agony in that aged face, and the love that agony implied, won him, and it was to the parent he turned to give his verdict. “The hemorrhage is from the lungs”-- Lusignan interrupted him: “From the lungs!” cried he, in dismay. “Yes; a slight congestion of the lungs.” “But not incurable! Oh, not incurable, doctor!” “Heaven forbid! It is curable--easily--by removing the cause.” “And what is the cause?” “The cause?”--he hesitated, and looked rather uneasy.--“Well, the cause, sir, is--tight stays.” The tranquillity of the meeting was instantly disturbed. “Tight stays! Me!” cried Rosa. “Why, I am the loosest girl in England. Look, papa!” And, without any apparent effort, she drew herself in, and poked her little fist between her sash and her gown. “There!” Dr. Staines smiled sadly and a little sarcastically: he was evidently shy of encountering the lady in this argument; but he was more at his ease with her father; so he turned towards him and lectured him freely. “That is wonderful, sir; and the first four or five female patients that favored me with it, made me disbelieve my other senses; but Miss Lusignan is now about the thirtieth who has shown me that marvellous feat, with a calm countenance that belies the herculean effort. Nature has her every-day miracles: a boa-constrictor, diameter seventeen inches, can swallow a buffalo; a woman, with her stays bisecting her almost, and lacerating her skin, can yet for one moment make herself seem slack, to deceive a juvenile physician. The snake is the miracle of expansion; the woman is the prodigy of contraction.” “Highly grateful for the comparison!” cried Rosa. “Women and snakes!” Dr. Staines blushed and looked uncomfortable. “I did not mean to be offensive; it certainly was a very clumsy comparison.” “What does that matter?” said Mr. Lusignan, impatiently. “Be quiet, Rosa, and let Dr. Staines and me talk sense.” “Oh, then I am nobody in the business!” said this wise young lady.