Going away from her presence into the little sordid houses where disease and sickness were rife, he felt as if he had dropped from heaven to earth, from paradise to purgatory. When in heaven and paradise every obstacle to his wishes vanished, and he was lapped in elysium; but when he returned to earth and purgatory, the idea of marrying Lady Louisa seemed the most wild and improbable dream. He went home and wrote to Lady Louisa, enclosing his photograph--had she not almost asked for it?--and as he did it he felt that according as it should turn out he was committing an act either of great folly or great wisdom. He did not sleep, thinking of it and continually balancing the probabilities of the case; but even if he had been sleepier than he was, the roar of the wind, which rose almost to a tempest, would have prevented sleep. In the morning a messenger came to let him know that his patient at the lodge had died suddenly during the night. It has been recorded that the soul of the Lord Protector Cromwell passed away in the midst of a tempest; but it was not remarked at the time, nor has it been noticed since, except on this page, that Bell Thomson breathed her last when the fury of the wind was at its height. Whether the one fact was significant, and the other insignificant, I do not know. It is to be feared that Dr. Brunton's first thought in connection with the intelligence sent him was, the excuse for meeting at the lodge being over, where or how was he to see Lady Louisa? VIII. At the very time Dr. Brunton was thinking of this, the family at the castle were sitting at breakfast, and the letter-bag came in. As the earl was looking over the letters he said, "Here's a thick despatch for you, Loo: open it, and tell me what it is?" She opened it. "Well?" said her father. "It is a likeness of the doctor," she said. "The doctor! what doctor?" "Oh, Dr. Brunton--he who lives in the village. He has been here several times, you remember?" "I remember perfectly. How is his likeness sent to you? who sends it?" "Himself probably, but I have not read the letter yet." "Don't read it: hand it to me," he said sternly. The duchess and Lady Helen were listening to this dialogue, and watching the rising wrath of their father and the cool, calm bearing of Loo. The earl read the letter, then rose and flung it and the carte into the fire. "The man is a vain fool," he said--"a perfect fool!" "I don't see that, papa. I should have wished to have his likeness: I am not sure that I did not say so to him. I sometimes meet him in the cottages of the people about." "Do you know the kind of insult you have brought upon yourself?" "I have brought no insult on myself, and I know of none." "In that letter he asked you to be his wife." "The thing is not possible," she said, starting from her chair: "he must be mad. _I_ his wife! Why, he'll want the moon down to put into his gig-lanterns next."