Careful to perform his promise to Mirabel, without delay, the doctor called on Emily early in the morning--before the hour at which he usually entered his consulting-room. “Well? What’s the matter with the pretty young mistress?” he asked, in his most abrupt manner, when Mrs. Ellmother opened the door. “Is it love? or jealousy? or a new dress with a wrinkle in it?” “You will hear about it, sir, from Miss Emily herself. I am forbidden to say anything.” “But you mean to say something--for all that?” “Don’t joke, Doctor Allday! The state of things here is a great deal too serious for joking. Make up your mind to be surprised--I say no more.” Before the doctor could ask what this meant, Emily opened the parlor door. “Come in!” she said, impatiently. Doctor Allday’s first greeting was strictly professional. “My dear child, I never expected this,” he began. “You are looking wretchedly ill.” He attempted to feel her pulse. She drew her hand away from him. “It’s my mind that’s ill,” she answered. “Feeling my pulse won’t cure me of anxiety and distress. I want advice; I want help. Dear old doctor, you have always been a good friend to me--be a better friend than ever now.” “What can I do?” “Promise you will keep secret what I am going to say to you--and listen, pray listen patiently, till I have done.” Doctor Allday promised, and listened. He had been, in some degree at least, prepared for a surprise--but the disclosure which now burst on him was more than his equanimity could sustain. He looked at Emily in silent dismay. She had surprised and shocked him, not only by what she said, but by what she unconsciously suggested. Was it possible that Mirabel’s personal appearance had produced on her the same impression which was present in his own mind? His first impulse, when he was composed enough to speak, urged him to put the question cautiously. “If you happened to meet with the suspected man,” he said, “have you any means of identifying him?” “None whatever, doctor. If you would only think it over--” He stopped her there; convinced of the danger of encouraging her, and resolved to act on his conviction. “I have enough to occupy me in my profession,” he said. “Ask your other friend to think it over.” “What other friend?” “Mr. Alban Morris.” The moment he pronounced the name, he saw that he had touched on some painful association. “Has Mr. Morris refused to help you?” he inquired. “I have not asked him to help me.” “Why?” There was no choice (with such a man as Doctor Allday) between offending him or answering him. Emily adopted the last alternative. On this occasion she had no reason to complain of his silence. “Your view of Mr. Morris’s conduct surprises me,” he replied--“surprises me more than I can say,” he added; remembering that he too was guilty of having kept her in ignorance of the truth, out of regard--mistaken regard, as it now seemed to be--for her peace of mind.