The Doctor looked at the young man attentively. "And yet," said he, in a gentler voice, "you, young man, are, by your account, a perfect stranger to her, or were so when you undertook to bring her to London. You have a good heart--always keep it. Very healthy thing, sir, a good heart--that is, when not carried to excess. But you have friends of your own in town?" LEONARD.--"Not yet, sir; I hope to make them." DOCTOR.--"Pless me, you do? How?--I can't make any." Leonard colored and hung his head. He longed to say, "Authors find friends in their readers--I am going to be an author." But he felt that the reply would savor of presumption, and held his tongue. The Doctor continued to examine him, and with friendly interest. "You say you walked up to London--was that from choice or economy?" LEONARD.--"Both, sir." DOCTOR.--"Sit down again, and let us talk I can give you a quarter of an hour, and I'll see if I _can_ help either of you, provided you tell me all the symptoms--I mean all the particulars." Then, with that peculiar adroitness which belongs to experience in the medical profession, Dr. Morgan, who was really an acute and able man, proceeded to put his questions, and soon extracted from Leonard the boy's history and hopes. But when the Doctor, in admiration at a simplicity which contrasted so evident an intelligence, finally asked him his name and connections, and Leonard told them, the homeopathist actually started. "Leonard Fairfield, grandson of my old friend, John Avenel of Lansmere! I must shake you by the hand. Brought up by Mrs. Fairfield! Ah, now I look, strong family likeness--very strong!" The tears stood in the Doctor's eyes. "Poor Nora!" said he. "Nora! Did you know my aunt?" "Your aunt! Ah--ah! yes--yes! Poor Nora! she died almost in these arms--so young, so beautiful. I remember it as if yesterday." The Doctor brushed his hand across his eyes, and swallowed a globule; and, before the boy knew what he was about, had in his benevolence thrust another between Leonard's quivering lips. A knock was heard at the door. "Ha! that's my great patient," cried the Doctor, recovering his self-possession--"must see him. A chronic case--excellent patient--tic, sir, tic. Puzzling and interesting. If I could take that tic with me, I should ask nothing more from Heaven. Call again on Monday; I may have something to tell you then as to yourself. The little girl can't stay with you--wrong and nonsensical. I will see after her. Leave me your address--write it here. I think I know a lady who will take charge of her. Good-by. Monday next, ten o'clock." With this, the Doctor thrust out Leonard, and ushered in his grand patient, whom he was very anxious to take with him to the banks of the Rhine.