“No—if they were, I should need no other company for the carriage. The society of young people is pleasant to me, but Adelaide is at Madame ——’s and Ernest is with a German clergyman, a friend of his father’s. I fancy my rides would be of much greater service to me if I had a pleasant companion or two.” “Undoubtedly—and I know a lady and her daughter to whom a regular morning airing with such society as that of Mrs. Waldorf would be the very breath of life! What a pity that etiquette comes in the way of so many good things! But go on, I beg.” “Etiquette! say not another word, doctor—who and where are these friends or patients of yours? I should be happy if I could offer any service. I will call with you on them this very day if you like, and invite them to ride with me daily.” “Thank you a thousand times, my dear madam,” said Doctor R——, “it is what I could not venture to ask. Yet I am not afraid you will not find my friends at least tolerably agreeable—but will you proceed with the account you were giving me of your daily habits—you dine at four, I believe?” “That is our hour, but Mr. Waldorf is often detained until five, and I never dine without him. For my own part I should not care if dinner were stricken from the day. I lunch about one, and with tolerable appetite, and I never wish to eat again until supper time. We take tea, however, at seven, and—” “Green tea, I presume—do you take it strong?” “Oh! not very, if I take it _too_ strong, I do not sleep at all.” “You sleep but indifferently, you tell me?” “Yes, generally; and wake many times in the night; sometimes in the horrors, so that I am full of undefinable fears, and dare not open my eyes lest the objects in the room should assume terrific shapes. The very shades cast by the night-lamp have power at such times to appal me.” The doctor’s professional inquiries extended to a still greater length, but he had guessed Mrs. Waldorf’s complaint before he arrived at this point in the list. He had found solitude, inactivity, late hours, suppers, coffee, green tea, music and books—with not one counterbalancing item of that labor—effort—sacrifice—which has been affixed as the unchanging price of health and spirits. Mrs. Waldorf was one of the hundreds if not thousands of ladies in our land who walk through the world without ever discovering the secret of life. She had abundant wealth and a most indulgent husband, with all that this world can offer in point of comfort, and she imagined that health alone was wanting to complete her happiness. Passive happiness! what a dream! Doctor R—— was at the head of his profession, and he had some medicines at his command which are not known at the hospitals. He thought he could cure Mrs. Waldorf, but he hinted that he feared he should find her but a poor patient. “You do not wish Mr. Waldorf to know you are under my care lest he should object to your neglecting my remedies—”