Suddenly she heard her husband's step approaching, and pushing them from her, rose and stood at the window, apparently looking out on the darkening world. Lord Hartledon came in, gaily and cheerily, his manner lighter than it had been for years. "Well, Maude, I have not been long, you see. Why don't you have lights?" She did not answer: only stared straight out. Her husband approached her. "What are you looking at, Maude?" "Nothing," she answered: "my head aches. I think I shall lie down until dinner-time. Eddie, open the door, and call Nurse, as loud as you can call." The little boy obeyed, and the nurse returned, and was ordered to take the children. Lady Hartledon was following them to go to her own room, when she fell into a chair and went off in a dead faint. "It's that excitement," said Val. "I do wish Maude would be reasonable!" The illness, however, appeared to be more serious than an ordinary fainting-fit; and Lord Hartledon, remembering the suspicion of heart-disease, sent for the family doctor Sir Alexander Pepps, an oracle in the fashionable world. A different result showed itself--equally caused by excitement--and the countess-dowager arrived in a day or two in hot haste. Lady Hartledon lay in bed, and did not attempt to get up or to get better. She lay almost as one without life, taking no notice of any one, turning her head from her husband when he entered, refusing to answer her mother, keeping the children away from the room. "Why doesn't she get up, Pepps?" demanded the dowager, wrathfully, pouncing upon the physician one day, when he was leaving the house. Sir Alexander, who might have been supposed to have received his baronetcy for his skill, but that titles, like kissing, go by favour, stopped short, took off his hat, and presumed that Lady Hartledon felt more comfortable in bed. "Rubbish! We might all lie in bed if we studied comfort. Is there any earthly reason why she should stay there, Pepps?" "Not any, except weakness." "Except idleness, you mean. Why don't you order her to get up?" "I have advised Lady Hartledon to do so, and she does not attend to me," replied Sir Alexander. "Oh," said the dowager. "She was always wilful. What about her heart?" "Her heart!" echoed Sir Alexander, looking up now as if a little aroused. "Dear me, yes; her heart; I didn't say her liver. Is it sound, Pepps?" "It's sound, for anything I know to the contrary. I never suspected anything the matter with her heart." "Then you are a fool!" retorted the complimentary dowager. Sir Alexander's temperament was remarkably calm. Nothing could rouse him out of his tame civility, which had been taken more than once for obsequiousness. The countess-dowager had patronized him in earlier years, when he was not a great man, or had begun to dream of becoming one.