"We can never get her to go out; she says it tires her; she was always indolent." "Or delicate," said the doctor; "she should not tire herself; you should send her out driving." "Out driving! Why there is no carriage." "No reason there should not be," said the doctor, pleasantly. The new idea rather took possession of Mr. Sandford, and before many days were over Grace was told that she was to go out, and that a carriage was at her service. Mr. Sandford's gruff way of announcing this fact did not prevent her seeing the real kindness, and she thanked him, while tears glistened in her eyes and she had a jest on her lips. Margaret saw her revive under the influence of the fresh air. She had more than once postponed her journey, greatly against her own wishes, and yielding only to Grace's urgent prayers. At length she left Renton, with a heavy heart for her sister. She had too great an affection for her not to see that the excitement and gay manner were all, in reality, part of her illness; she dreaded the worst; each time she tried to talk to her seriously Grace either laughed her to scorn or cried till she made herself ill, and no good was done. As she went south she tried to face the duties that awaited her--to remember only that her husband was her husband. It was late and dark when she arrived in London, and when she got to Wandsworth she tried in vain to make out her surroundings. She could see nothing but the lamp-posts; and the scanty light the lamps gave, and which spread such a little distance, served to make the gloom between them darker. She arrived at length at the Limes, so called because a couple of lopped lime-trees stood sentinel on either side of the gate. No one was there at the door to meet her. At length an untidy-looking woman arrived--seemed surprised to see her--waited with visible impatience whilst she paid the cabman, dragged in the slender luggage and banged the gate, showing young Mrs. Drayton the way up a flagged footway between some straggling laurels, and into a cheerless unfurnished little stone hall. "Is Mr. Drayton here? Did he not expect me?" asked the poor young wife, her heart sinking within her. "Oh! Mr. Drayton's here. He said nothing of your being expected." She opened a door, and sitting in front of a table littered with papers sat her husband, his face buried in his hands. He looked at her with a vacant smile--he did not know her. He was terrible to look at, so unkempt and so neglected looking. He must be ill, very ill! The fire was out and the room undusted and unswept, a close smell she did not recognise filled the room. She persuaded him to lie down on the sofa; she got the fire lit; threw open the window, put on the kettle for hot water, and wrote a note, which she sent by the woman to the nearest doctor. He came and looked down upon the prostrate figure. "Is he very ill?" asked Margaret, anxiously.