This brought a great deal of trouble into the minds of Johnny’s guardians. Mrs. Lennox was so nearly breaking down under a sense of the responsibility that her rheumatism, instead of improving with her baths, grew worse than ever, and she became so stiff that Rosalind and Everard together were needed, each at one arm, to raise her from her chair. The doctor was sent for, who examined Johnny, and, after hearing all the story, concluded that it was suppressed gout in the child’s system, and that baths to bring it out would be the best cure. He questioned Mrs. Lennox so closely as to her family and all their antecedents that it very soon appeared a certain fact that all the Trevanions had suffered from suppressed gout, which explained everything, and especially all peculiarities in the mind or conduct. “The little boy,” said the doctor, who spoke English so well, “is the victim of the physiological sins of his forefathers. Pardon, madam; I do not speak in a moral point of view. They drank Oporto wine and he sees what you call ghosts; the succession is very apparent. This child,” turning to Amy, who stood by, “she also has suppressed gout.” “Oh, Amy is quite well,” cried Aunt Sophy; “there is nothing at all the matter with Amy. But it cannot be denied that there is gout in the family. Indeed, when gentlemen come to a certain age they always suffer in that way, though I am sure I don’t know why. My poor father and grandfather, too, as I have always heard. Your papa, Rosalind, with him it was the heart.” “They are all connected. Rheumatism, it is the brother of gout, and rheumatism is the tyrant which affects the heart. No, my dear young lady, it is not the emotions, nor love, nor disappointment, nor any of the pretty things you think; it is rheumatism that is most fatal for the heart. I will settle for the little boy a course of baths, and he will see no more ladies; that is,” said the doctor, with a wave of his hand, “except the very charming ladies whom he has a right to see. But this child, she has it more pronounced; she is more ill than the little boy.” “Oh, no, doctor, it is only that Amy is always pale; there is nothing the matter with her. Do you feel anything the matter with you, Amy, my dear?” “No, Aunt Sophy,” said the little girl in a very low voice, turning her head away. “I told you so; there is nothing the matter with her. She is a pale little thing. She never has any color. But Johnny! Doctor, oh, I hope you will do your best for Johnny! He quite destroys all our peace and comfort. I am afraid to open my eyes after I go to bed, lest I should see the lady too; for that sort of thing is very catching. You get it into your mind. If there is any noise I can’t account for, I feel disposed to scream. I am sure I shall be seeing it before long if Johnny gets no better. But I have always supposed in such cases that it was the digestion that was out of order,” Mrs. Lennox said, returning, but doubtfully, to her original view.