When my father came in he immediately saw I was worse, and sent me to bed, giving me something hot to drink; but all that night I hardly slept, and in the morning he went for Doctor O’Brian. By that time I had almost forgotten the cause of my illness; what had led me to seek it; whether I desired it to be fatal or not. I was examined, stethoscoped, asked questions, gazed at. “Acute pneumonia.” I caught the words through a kind of lethargy into which I had fallen. They were talking together, my father and the doctor, but neither could understand how the disease had developed so rapidly.... CHAPTER LVII And, after all, I failed! I did not die. I got better, though not quite well, for my lungs remained delicate, and in October Mrs. Carroll took me to be examined by a specialist. I was examined, sounded, tapped, a sample of my blood taken, and other odious things done to me, before it was finally decided that I must go abroad. I listened to the discussion that followed, taking no part in it myself, but simply sitting on the sofa in the consulting-room. “For the winter, I suppose?” “For the winter certainly.” “And afterwards?” “Afterwards? I’m afraid it is impossible to say. There is no use making promises which may never be fulfilled. Would there be anything to prevent his living abroad always, supposing it should be the best thing for him?” “There is only the difficulty of his future――that is, of a profession. He was to have gone to Oxford next year.” “I see. It is certainly unfortunate. But apart from that, there is nothing?” “To prevent his living abroad? Not that I know of.” There were such things as tutors, it then appeared; young gentlemen of excellent scholastic attainments, just fresh from one or other of the Universities, who could be induced to combine the rôles of travelling-companion, mentor, and pedagogue. And on this hopeful note we came away. We had lunch in town, and caught the next train home. When we arrived at Newcastle we took one of the station cars. I was staying at Derryaghy to complete my convalescence; so Mrs. Carroll stopped at our house to give my father the news, telling me to drive on by myself. The October sunlight, still with a little of the warmth of summer in it, slanted through the trees, as I drove in at the lodge-gate. There was a charming autumnal languor in the still air――a kind of dreamy, happy beauty, which made me think of some verses of La Fontaine’s:―― “J’étais libre et vivais seul et sans amour; L’innocente beauté des jardins et des jours Allait faire à jamais le charme de ma vie.” And, far out on the dark sea, a white sail gleamed in the sun.