“If you like to trust to time with such a delicate thing as a girl’s life,” said the young doctor, “I don’t. We must do something. Either that and try the effect of nature, or else I must have the best authority from town to see her; and you know what questions a physician would ask, and perhaps you know how we could answer him. I don’t.” “Mr. Darrell,” said the housekeeper, “you’re my superior. I have to take my orders from you. All the same, I consider that our first business is to look after what we were put here for. I cannot acknowledge that a child frightened, even though she is frightened into fits, is any reason for giving up.” “There are a hundred reasons for giving up,” cried the young man passionately. “I would give up this moment if I could, if there was any one to give up my charge to. It’s neither right nor necessary, what we’re doing. I have never stopped regretting I undertook it, never since----” “Say the truth, Mr. Darrell, never since--this young lady came here! I’ve seen it from the first. She’s not much more than a child, but you think more of her than of every one else in the house.” The young doctor blushed like a girl to the very roots of his hair. “I have no intention of answering any such accusation,” he said. “It is entirely uncalled for, and quite unjustifiable. I have done my duty to the utmost, if such a charge could ever be any one’s duty. My doubts have a very different foundation. But I don’t go so far as to sacrifice life to my engagements, and therefore I’m going to telegraph to Mrs. Asquith to beg her to come here at once, without an hour’s delay.” “Then I’ll telegraph to Mrs. Rotherham,” said the housekeeper. “Oh, dear! she is so far away. How can you betray a poor lady that is so far away? I’ll send for the lawyer. It was he that brought this girl here, and he had better come and take her away. Yes, that’s it. Let’s make a compromise, Doctor. Send her away. To go home, of course, is the best thing for her. Change of air, and change of scene, and her own folks--that’s far, far better. I’ll run the chance of whatever she may say when she gets better. Let us send her away.” Mr. Darrell turned and looked again at the motionless figure in the chair. His face softened into the deepest, tender pity. “If you think what she was when she came here,” he said, “all full of life and spirit, and to look at her now, like a withered flower! No. I can’t take the responsibility of sending her away. Her mother, or a physician, one or the other! I can’t have her life and her reason to answer for all alone. I am going to telegraph to Mrs. Asquith, now.” The housekeeper stopped him, catching at his arm. “Do you know who Mrs. Asquith is?” she said.