"Baby must keep quiet," she whispered; but how could baby know? As they passed her husband's door her frightened and close embrace alarmed and hurt the child, and she set up a tremendous roar. Margaret went to the front door; no key was there; she turned to the drawer to look and found her husband beside her. "Where are you going?" he thundered, holding her shoulder as in a vice. "I am going out," she answered, trying to speak, quivering with fear all the time. "You do not go out at that door! and besides how can you go out with your precious child in the rain?" Poor Margaret looked up and there indeed she saw that it was raining heavily. Her heart sank and she paused irresolute. At that moment the key turned in the lock, and the man came in. "I have been to the doctor and he is coming directly," he said, and with a feeling of being baffled, though only for the time, poor Margaret turned her weary steps upstairs. She was over-excited, and cried with the passion that comes from weakness, as from despair. Then she left her child upstairs, and prepared to see the doctor. Through him she would surely be able to arrange something. No one, she kept saying to herself, would wish her to stay with a madman, no one could leave a child in his keeping. And she went to the sitting-room, and when she heard the doctor come she fled swiftly towards him, and took him upstairs to her own room. She would lay everything before him, and he would help her. And he, looking at her flushed face and great excitement of manner, wondered whether she was going to tell him about some illness of her own; and conscious of a certain prejudice against her, because of her marriage to this man, and a farewell he had witnessed between her and--Sir Albert Gerald. CHAPTER IX. Since that first interview Dr. Jones had had with the poor wife his feelings of admiration and pity had changed a good deal. The explanation of her position lowered her considerably in his eyes. Perhaps no one sees the utter emptiness of life, and the non-importance of wealth, more than a medical man, who sees how little happiness it brings to any one; how little (standing by itself) it does for poor humanity. He was disgusted when he saw that there was apparently no excuse for her; and he was shocked when he saw a farewell between her and a young man as he passed Mr. Skidd's shop, because here was evidently a lover. Her face he could not see, but Sir Albert's expression was unmistakable. Margaret, having no clue to his coldness and evident disapproval, felt speaking difficult, far more difficult than she had thought. "I want to speak to you," she said, colouring under his searching gaze. "I want to tell you about my husband. I am very miserable, and I am very much frightened." "Humph!" said Dr. Jones, "let us leave the misery upon one side, and talk about your fears; what makes you afraid?"