The petulance in his voice betrayed his resentment at the lack of improvement in her affairs. Her sickness was infinitely mischievous at such a moment, and inspired him with an uneasy and savage impatience. He flung down into a chair, with all his sweet loftiness in peril of toppling into a snarl of unseemly temper. Dr. Hemstruther appeared to be intent upon brushing some of the snuff from his coat. “The danger is not skin deep, sir,” he said. “You find yourself quite helpless, Dr. Hemstruther, eh? There, pardon my peevishness—” “I would not venture the weight of a feather either way, my lord. And she is a bad patient, mens turbida in corpore ægro.” He sniffed, smoothed his wig, and looked deferentially at his shoes. “My Lady Purcell is asking for you, my lord.” “Then she is conscious—of everything?” “Conscious to the quick, in spite of the heat of the fever. If I may be pardoned—” His eyes met my lord’s, and Stephen Gore was the more embarrassed of the two. “You think that I should do her good?” “More good, my lord—” “Than all your draughts and bleedings!” Dr. Hemstruther bowed, and hid a smile with the obeisance. “My Lord Gore might find some words to soothe the lady.” “But you forget, man, that—” He did not complete the sentence, for even his egotism stumbled at the confession of the instinct of cowardice and self-love. Dr. Hemstruther understood him, and mocked inwardly at the great man’s prudence. “There is some danger, my lord; but still I would advise—” “As a matter of policy?” “As a matter of policy.” Stephen Gore pushed back his chair and stood at his full height, as though he felt the need of feeling himself taller than this little crab of a man who knew so much, and whose authority was so obsequious and yet so strong. “Women have no patience, sir, and will scream ‘fire’ when a log falls on the hearth. I am up to my eyes in a rush of affairs to-day. And my friends will thank me if I breathe a pest into all their faces.” “To-morrow would serve, my lord.” “I may take your word for that? Good. Are there any cautions you would give me?” Dr. Hemstruther screwed his face into an expression of intense sagacity. “I will send you a powder to burn, my lord, and a mild draught to clear you. Sit by an open window, and have all the clothes you go in burned.” “My thanks. And now, sir, if you will pardon me, my leisure is not my own.” He unlocked a cabinet, took out a silk purse, and, crossing the room, held the purse out to the physician. “I am exerting myself in that little affair of yours, Dr. Hemstruther,” he said. “It is a pleasure to labor for one’s friends.” Both smiled faintly as they looked into each other’s eyes. Dr. Hemstruther put the purse away in an inner pocket and made one of his most courtly bows. “Your servant, my lord. I trust that I am mindful of all your interests.” And he went out sniffing, to wrinkle up his nose sardonically, like a grinning dog, so soon as he was out of Stephen Gore’s sight.