But the moment he got her alone he kissed her paternally, and said, “Rosa, it is not lost on me, your fidelity to the dead. As years roll on, and your deep wound first closes, then skins, then heals--” “Ah, let me die first--” “Time and nature will absolve you from that vow; but bless you for thinking this can never be. Rosa, your folly of this day has made you my heir; so never let money tempt you, for you have enough, and will have more than enough when I go.” He was as good as his word; altered his will next day, and made Rosa his residuary legatee. When he had done this, foreseeing no fresh occasion for his services, he prepared for a long visit to Italy. He was packing up his things to go there, when he received a line from Lady Cicely Treherne, asking him to call on her professionally. As the lady's servant brought it, he sent back a line to say he no longer practised medicine, but would call on her as a friend in an hour's time. He found her reclining, the picture of lassitude. “How good of you to come,” she drawled. “What's the matter?” said he brusquely. “I wish to cawnsult you about myself. I think if anybody can brighten me up, it is you. I feel such a languaw--such a want of spirit; and I get palaa, and that is not desiwable.” He examined her tongue and the white of her eye, and told her, in his blunt way, she ate and drank too much. “Excuse me, sir,” said she stiffly. “I mean too often. Now, let's see. Cup of tea in bed, of a morning?” “Yaas.” “Dinner at two?” “We call it luncheon.” “Are you a ventriloquist?” “No.” “Then it is only your lips call it luncheon. Your poor stomach, could it speak, would call it dinner. Afternoon tea?” “Yaas.” “At seven-thirty another dinner. Tea after that. Your afflicted stomach gets no rest. You eat pastry?” “I confess it.” “And sugar in a dozen forms?” She nodded. “Well, sugar is poison to your temperament. Now I'll set you up, if you can obey. Give up your morning dram.” “What dwam?” “Tea in bed, before eating. Can't you see that is a dram? Animal food twice a day. No wine but a little claret and water; no pastry, no sweets, and play battledore with one of your male subjects.” “Battledaw! won't a lady do for that?” “No: you would get talking, and not play ad sudorem.” “Ad sudawem! what is that?” “In earnest.” “And will sudawem and the west put me in better spiwits, and give me a tinge?” “It will incarnadine the lily, and make you the happiest young lady in England, as you are the best.” “I should like to be much happier than I am good, if we could manage it among us.” “We will manage it AMONG us; for if the diet allowed should not make you boisterously gay, I have a remedy behind, suited to your temperament. I am old-fashioned, and believe in the temperaments.” “And what is that wemedy?” “Try diet, and hard exercise, first.” “Oh, yes; but let me know that wemedy.” “I warn you it is what we call in medicine an heroic one.” “Never mind. I am despewate.”