“My sister, Miss Daw,” he said, quietly, “is desirous I should visit my other tenants before starting for Court Manor, and I am satisfied she is right. I have not been down for years, but it will not take me long, and then----” “And then,” finished Lady Enid, with a feeble smile--“then good-by to dreary, gloomy, dusty London, if--if Dr. Fothergill consents.” “Enid,” Lord Court said, going to his sister’s side, “what do you mean? Has Fothergill been frightening you? Ah, I knew there was something that made you hesitate! Speak! tell me at once!” “Nugent, my darling”--and Lady Enid imprisoned his strong hand in her two frail ones--“forgive me! I have been tempted to tell you, and then the thought of buoying you up only for bitter disappointment has stopped me. This is it, my darling.” There was a little catch in her breath which he did not notice in his anxiety, but which did not escape Margery, who had risen, and was standing at a little distance, with hands clasped tightly together. “For some time past Dr. Fothergill has been hopeful that, by undergoing certain treatment, I shall be cured--that is, partially cured--walk by myself, be no longer the great baby I am now; and--and I have agreed to try it, for I do long for health, to be as others are. Now, Nugent, you know my secret--you have wormed it out of me. I did not mean to tell you, but I have been compelled. So you see, darling, I cannot leave London while I am under his care. In a little while I shall know whether the treatment is successful or not. I have kept this even from Margery.” Her cheeks were flushed, a light of eagerness was in her eyes. Margery could not see for tears; she slipped her hand into the tiny hot one, and whispered the words that Lord Court spoke; then, deeply moved, she turned and left the room. CHAPTER XVI.