“Suffer by it!” said she. “No, I mean to reward you for taking my advice. Don't you say a word to _her._ It will come better from me. I'll let her know what you are gone for; and she is just the girl to be upon honor, and ever so much cooler to Lord Uxmoor because you are unhappy, but have gone away trusting her.” And his artful ally kept her word. She went into Zoe's room before dinner to have it out with her. In the evening Severne told Vizard he must go up to London for a day or two. “All right,” said Vizard. “Tell some of them to order the dog-cart for your train.” But Zoe took occasion to ask him for how long, and murmured, “Remember how we shall miss you,” with such a look that he was in Elysium that evening. But at night he packed his bag for Homburg, and that chilled him. He lay slumbering all night, but not sleeping, and waking with starts and a sense of horror. At breakfast, after reading his letters, Vizard asked him what train he would go by. He said, the one o'clock. “All right,” said Vizard. Then he rang the bell, countermanded the dog-cart, and ordered the barouche. “A barouche for me!” said Severne. “Why, I am not going to take the ladies to the station.” “No; it is to bring one here. She comes down from London five minutes before you take the up train.” There was a general exclamation: Who was it? Aunt Maitland? “No,” said Vizard, tossing a note to Zoe--“it is Doctress Gale.” Severne's countenance fell. CHAPTER XVII. EDWARD SEVERNE, master of arts, dreaded Rhoda Gale, M.D. He had deluded, in various degrees, several ladies that were no fools; but here was one who staggered and puzzled him. Bright and keen as steel, quick and spirited, yet controlled by judgment and always mistress of herself, she seemed to him a new species. The worst of it was, he felt himself in the power of this new woman, and, indeed, he saw no limit to the mischief she might possibly do him if she and Zoe compared notes. He had thought the matter over, and realized this more than he did when in London. Hence the good youth's delight at her illness, noticed in a former chapter. He was very thoughtful all breakfast time, and as soon as it was over drew Vizard apart, and said he would postpone his visit to London until he had communicated with his man of business. He would go to the station and telegraph him, and by that means would do the civil and meet Miss Gale. Vizard stared at him. “You meet my virago? Why, I thought you disapproved her entirely.” “No, no; only the idea of a female doctor, not the lady herself. Besides, it is a rule with me, my dear fellow, never to let myself disapprove my friends' friends.” “That is a bright idea, and you are a good fellow,” said Vizard. “Go and meet the pest, by all means, and bring her here to luncheon. After luncheon we will drive her up to the farm and ensconce her.”