“Dear Princess,—It grieves me to find that you have lost confidence in me as your medical adviser, because I have given much consideration to your case. Allow me to assure you that if you permit me a further trial, you will be satisfied with the result. At the same time, if you conclude that you are better without my advice, I sincerely hope you will allow me to talk over your next medical adviser with you, as the selection is a matter of importance to your health. “I am, faithfully yours, “HUGH PAULL.” “Whether this is too warm, or too cold—whatever it is, _it shall go_,” he said to himself decidedly, as he rang the bell. “When did this letter come?” he asked of Jones, who came in response to his summons. “That, sir? Oh, the princess! The fair, foreign gentleman brought it. He wanted to see you, sir. He came about two.” “_Which_ gentleman?” asked Hugh—nettled to find that the letter had been recognised. “The count, sir; not the prince.” “Send this by a hansom at once,” he directed. “And send round to the stables. I want the brougham directly after dinner.” He had given this order, spurred by a feeling he had not hitherto known: he wished to conceal his movements from his own servants. Hitherto, they might have known all that he did, and spoke, and thought, for all he cared. Now, the idea of his patient the princess being commented upon by any one of his household, even by Ralph, was unbearable to him. He had ordered his carriage to elude remark. No sooner had he done so, than he wondered what he should do with it—where he should go. “I will take mammy to the theatre,” he suddenly thought. Upstairs he bounded—she was not in the drawing-room. Once more he rushed up the stairs three steps at a time and bounced up against Mrs. Mervyn. “My dear boy!” Mrs. Mervyn was astonished, but not disconcerted. It did her good to see the long disconsolate widower “alive again,” as she said afterwards to her husband. “I came to see if you would come to the theatre, to-night,” he said, in a low voice. “Don’t say anything before the servants—but after dinner, we three can just go and see anything good that you would care to see.” Mrs. Mervyn was enchanted. “All the same, I would just as soon spend a quiet evening with you and Ralph,” she said. “You must not fatigue yourself on my account, dear.” “Don’t be alarmed! I am purely selfish!” he said, going off disgusted with himself. What had happened to him? He was unstrung—his emotions were in revolt. He felt as if he could not sit quietly at home that evening, waiting for a reply to his note. He must have change of scene, excitement, to balance him. If mammy could only know! Poor “mammy!”