The lady took her ten drops at nine, and felt so much better that she could not help telling her husband all about her visit to Doctor R——. The next morning proved cloudy, and Mrs. Waldorf felt rather languid, but, after her dose, found an improved appetite for breakfast. She sat down to her music, but looked frequently at the clouds and at her watch, thinking of her appointment. When the hour arrived the envious skies poured down such showers as will damp any body’s ardor. The drive must be given up for that day, and it passed as usual, with only the interlude of the magic drops. The next day was as bad, and the day after not a great deal better. Mrs. Waldorf’s pains and palpitations almost discouraged her. She was quite sure she had a liver complaint. But on the fourth morning the sun rose gloriously, and the face of nature, clean washed, shone with renewed beauty. At eleven the carriage and the lady were at Doctor R——’s door. “Have you courage to see an invalid—a sad sufferer?” said the doctor. “Oh, certainly! I am an invalid myself, you know.” “Ah! my dear lady, my invalid wears a different aspect! Yet I hope she is going to recover, and I shall trust to your humanity if the scene prove a sad one. Sickness of the mind was, I think, the origin of the evil, but it has almost overpowered the frail body. This young lady and her mother have been giving lessons in music and in Italian, and have had but slender success in the whirl of competition. As nearly as I can discover, they came to this country hoping to find reverse of fortune easier to bear among strangers; and their course was determined hitherward in consequence of earlier family troubles which drove a son of Madame Vamiglia to America. He was a liberal, and both displeased his father and put himself in danger from government, by some unsuccessful attempt at home. The father is since dead, and the old lady and her daughter, left in poverty and loneliness, determined on following the young man to the new world. But here we are.” And they stopped before a small house in a back street. Mrs. Waldorf was shown into a very humble parlor, while the doctor went to prepare his patient. He returned presently with Madame Vamiglia, a well-bred woman past middle age. She expressed her grateful sense of Mrs. Waldorf’s kindness, but their communication was rather pantomimical, for the lady found her song-Italian of little service, and the signora had not much conversational English. However, with some French, and occasional aid from Doctor R——, their acquaintance was somewhat ripened before they went to the bedside of the sufferer. Mrs. Waldorf turned pale, and felt ready to faint, at the sight which presented itself.