Glenmurray answered by a deep-drawn sigh; and the doctor continued: 'Then there is that girl again, with a heart so fond and true that her love comes in aid of her integrity, and makes her think no sacrifice too great, in order to prove her confidence in the wisdom of her lover,--urging her to disregard all personal inconveniences rather than let him forfeit, for her sake, his pretensions to independence and consistency of character! girl, I can't help admiring you, but no more I could a Malabar widow, who with fond and pious enthusiasm, from an idea of duty, throws herself on the funeral pile of her husband. But still I should think you a great fool, notwithstanding, for professing the opinions that led to such an exertion of duty. And now here are you, possessed of every quality both of head and heart to bless others and to bless yourself--owing to your foolish and pernicious opinions;--here you are, I say blasted in reputation in the prime of your days, and doomed perhaps to pine through existence in--Pshaw! I can't support the idea!' added he, gulping down a sob as he spoke, and traversing the room in great emotion. Adeline and Glenmurray were both of them deeply and painfully affected; and the latter was going to express what he felt, when the doctor seizing Adeline's hand, affectionately exclaimed, 'Well, my poor child! I will see your mother once more; I will go to London tomorrow--by this time she is there--and you had better follow me; you will hear of me at the Old Hummums; and here is a card of address to an hotel near it, where I would advise you to take up your abode.' So saying he shook Glenmurray by the hand; when, starting back, he exclaimed 'Why, man! here is a skin like fire, and a pulse like lightning. My dear fellow, you must take care of yourself.' Adeline burst into tears. 'Indeed, doctor, I am only nervous.' 'Nervous!--What, I suppose you think you understand my profession better than I do. But don't cry, my child: when your mind is easier, perhaps, he will do very well; and, as one thing likely to give him immediate ease, I prescribe a visit to the altar of the next parish church.' So saying he departed; and all other considerations were again swallowed up in Adeline's mind by the idea of Glenmurray's danger. 'Is it possible that my marrying you would have such a blessed effect on your health?' cried Adeline after a pause. 'It certainly would make my mind easier than it now is,' replied he. 'If I thought so,' said Adeline: 'but no--regard for my supposed interest merely makes you say so; and indeed I should not think so well of you as I now do, if I imagined that you could be made easy by an action by which you forfeited all pretensions to that consistency of character so requisite to the true dignity of a philosopher.' A deep sigh from Glenmurray, in answer, proved that he was no philosopher.