“This is all that’s wanting,” muttered M’Kinlay to himself. “I only need to catch some confounded disorder, now, to make this the most happy exploit of my whole life! Where is this house you speak of?” “At the foot of the hill, Sir, where you saw the clump of evergreen oaks.” “Why, it was a dirty-looking hovel, with Indian corn hung all over it.” “Well, Sir, it ain’t very clean to look at, but it’s not so bad inside, and you can be sure of a comfortable bed.” “I don’t see why I am to stop at all. I have seen Miss Ada safe to her own door; I really cannot perceive that anything more is required of me,” said he to himself, as he walked up and down the terrace. “You’d like to eat something, perhaps, Sir? Supper is ready whenever you wish it.” “Yes, I’ll eat a morsel; I was very hungry half an hour ago, but all this tidings of illness and infection has driven away my appetite. A vast roomy old place this appears,” said he, as he followed the serrant across a hall spacious as a public square, into a salon large enough to be a church. “We have five like this, Sir; and on the other floor there is one still larger and loftier.” “How long are you here?” said the lawyer, abruptly, for he was not at all in love with the mansion. “We shall be two months here on Tuesday, and her Ladyship likes it so much, Sir Gervais means to buy it.” “Well, I hope I shall not be much more than two hours in it. Let me have something to eat, and order fresh horses at the post.” “You’ll see my Lady, I suppose, Sir?” “Of course, if she can receive me; but I will just send up a line on my card to say that my departure at once is imperatively necessary.” Few as the words were that were required to convey this message, Mr. M’Kinlay could scarcely write them in a legible way. He was nervously afraid of an illness; but the thought of a foreign malady--a fever of some outlandish type--was a terror as great as the attack of a savage animal, of whose instinct and ways he knew nothing. All the speculations which had filled his head as he came along the road, were routed at once. Love-making and marriage were all very well, but they might be purchased too dearly. A dowry that was only to be won by facing a fever, was a sorry speculation. No! he would have none of such dangerous ambitions. He had gone through enough already--he had braved shipwreck--and if needs were that he must resign the agency, better that than resign life itself. Not even the appetising supper that was now spread before him, could dispel these gloomy thoughts. He was half afraid to eat, and he could not be sure that wine was safe under the present circumstances. “My Lady hoped to see you in the morning, Sir,” said the valet. “She has just lain down, having been up last night with Sir Gervais.”