The experiment which Dr. Merle had sanctioned proved successful. The wise physician had calmed the apprehensions with which her husband and son regarded the swoon into which Mrs. Carruthers had fallen upon recognizing George, and had hinted that on her recovery the mother and son should be left alone. "The old gentleman," said Dr. Merle to Mr. Felton, "and a fine old gentleman he is--a little peculiar, but it would not do the world any harm to have a few more of this sort in it--has told me a good deal of the family history intentionally, and some of it unintentionally; and I have not the least doubt that the root of Mrs. Carruthers's disease is simply her son." "He has given her some trouble, I know," said Mark Felton, with a sigh; "but hardly so much as that comes to, I fancy." "Well, well, I won't be positive; but I think so. No young man ever tells all the truth about his follies; and, indeed, no middle-aged or old man, for that matter; and rely upon it, his mother knows more than any one else. She will do well, Mr. Felton. She sees him all right, no matter how wrong he may have been; there's nothing gravely amiss now. We may leave her to time now, and her son's society." "Do you think I may venture to see her soon?" "Impossible to say, for a day or two, my dear sir; impossible to say. Mr. Carruthers and Mr. Dallas must explain your coming to her. I don't prescribe _two_ shocks, you know, even pleasant ones; and then I have no doubt you will perfect the cure." Mr. Felton acknowledged the smooth speech with an absent sort of smile, and Dr. Merle took his leave. "You are sure there is nothing wrong with you, George? You are quite sure you are in no danger?" said Mrs. Carruthers, late in the afternoon of that day, to her son, as she lay quietly on a large sofa drawn close to the window, where the panes were glittering in the dying light. Her face was turned towards him, her dark eyes a little troubled, and not so bright as they had been, resting fondly and with a puzzled expression upon his face, and one thin hand fondly clasped in his. George was lying on the floor beside her sofa, his head resting against her pillow, and the fingers of her other hand were moving softly among his rich brown curls. "Nothing, indeed, mother. All is well with me--much, much better than I ever expected or hoped; but you must not agitate yourself, or ask any questions. Dr. Merle and Mr. Carruthers have put me on my honour not to talk to you of the past, and we must keep our word, you know;" and the young man tenderly kissed the hand he held in his. "Yes, yes," she said, in an absent, searching tone; "but there is something--there was something--I--"