Here Maddy broke down entirely, sobbing so convulsively that Guy became alarmed, and wondered what he ought to do to quiet her. As she sat the bowed head was just within his reach, and so he very naturally laid his hand upon it, and as if it had been Jessie’s smoothed the silken hair, while he asked why she must go home. Had anything occurred to make her presence more necessary than it was at Aikenside? and into the young man’s heart there crept a feeling that Aikenside would be very lonely without Maddy Clyde. Controlling her voice as well as she was able, Maddy told him how the physicians at the asylum had written that as Uncle Joseph would in all human probability never be perfectly sane, and as a change of scene would do him good, Mr. Markham had better try taking him a while; that having been spoken with upon the subject, he seemed as anxious as a little child, even crying when the night came around and he was not at home, as he expressed it. “They have kept him so long,” Maddy said, “that grandpa thought it his duty to relieve them, though he can’t well afford it, and so he’s coming next week, and grandma will need some one to help, and I must go. I know it’s wrong, but I do not want to go, try as I will.” It was a gloomy prospect to exchange Aikenside for the humble home where poverty had its abode, and it was not very strange that Maddy should shrink from it at first. She did not stop to ask what was her duty, or think how much happiness her presence might give her grandparents, or how much she might cheer and amuse the weak imbecile, her uncle. She was but human, and so when Guy began to devise ways of preventing her going, she listened, while the pain at her heart grew less as her faith in Guy grew stronger. He would drive down with her to-morrow, he said, and see what could be done. Meanwhile she must dry her eyes and go to Jessie, who was calling her. As Guy had half expected, the doctor came around that evening, and inviting him into his private room, Guy proceeded at once to unfold his scheme, asking him first: “How much he probably received a year for his services as physician.” The doctor could not tell at once, but after a little thought made an estimate, and then inquired why Guy had asked the question. “Because, Doc, I have a project on foot. Lucy Atherstone is dying with what they call consumption. I don’t believe those old fogies understand her disease, and if you will go over to England and undertake her cure, I’ll give you just double what you’ll get by remaining here. They are going to Naples for the winter, and, undoubtedly, will spend some time in Paris. It will be just the thing for you. Lucy and her mother will be glad of your services when they know I sent you, Lucy likes you now. Will you go? You can trust Maddy to me. I’ll take good care that she is worthy of you when you come back.”