“She be talking, Sir, of being a-gathering seaweed on the rocks, and crying out to some one to take care--that the tide is gaining fast. ‘It will be soon in on us!’ she cries every moment; ‘make haste, Patsey, or we’ll lose it all?’ And then she’ll wring her hair, as if there was water in it, and tie it up short afterwards on the back of her head. I never see a young lady go on the same way before!” “Wandering?--mere wandering?” said Sir Within, faintly. “Of course it be, Sir Within; but ain’t it a strange sort of wandering for one bred and brought up as she was?” “When people rave, they rave,” said Sir Within, curtly. “Yes, Sir, so they does; but people born to every comfort and the like seldom talks of going out to look for firewood, or to bring home the goats from the mountains; and that poor sweet dear there won’t think of anything else.” “You are a fool, ma’am, or you would never think of attaching importance to what a patient raves about in a fever. I wonder Doctor Price could not have found a more competent person.” And with this rebuke he retraced his steps, and sought his own room. As he sat there, a servant entered with a note Doctor Price’s servant had just brought. He tore it open impatiently, and read: “Dear Sir,--I have accidentally heard that Sir Henry Morland will be at Wrexham this evening. If it be your wish to see him at Dalradern, pray inform me by the bearer. “Very respectfully your Servant, “Pritchard Price.” Sir Within at once addressed a most curt and conciliatory note to Doctor Price, requesting to see him and his colleague as soon as would suit his convenience. That there was something for which an apology was needed, he knew; but what it was, how it occurred, or why it occurred, was totally beyond him; his note, however, was polite in every respect, and its conclusion actually friendly. Doctor Price, however, did not make his appearance, but towards midnight a post-chaise drove into the court-yard, and the great town Physician entered the castle. He was a short, stout-built, heavy-browed man, stern, and almost peremptory in his manner, reserving all his mind for his patient, and scarcely condescending to notice the friends of the sick person. “Who is it?” asked he bluntly of Sir Within, as the old envoy politely handed him a chair. “My ward, Sir Henry, a young lady not fully seventeen.” “Humph! I did not know you were married.” “I am not married, Sir. I was not aware that we were discussing that question.” “Let me speak with your sister, then?” “I have no sister, Sir.” “I don’t care what the relative is--cousin, aunt, grandmother--if not too old.” “I reject, Sir, I have no female relative here to whom I can refer you. I shall send for my housekeeper, however, who is a most intelligent person;” and he rang the bell hurriedly. “And this ward--strange thing a ward in the house of an unmarried man--what’s her name?” “Miss O’Hara.” “O’Hara! O’Hara! One of the Antrim family?”