Breakfast was ready, but Gregory did not appear. Hannah, the waitress, was sent to his room, and in response to her quiet knock he said, sharply, "Well?" "Breakfast is waiting." "I do not wish any," was the answer, in a tone that seemed resentful, but was only an expression of the intolerable pain he was suffering. Hannah came down with a scared look and said she "guessed something was amiss with Mr. Gregory." Annie looked significantly at her father, who immediately ascended to his guest's door. "Mr. Gregory, may I come in?" he asked. "Do not trouble yourself. I shall be better soon," was the response. The door was unlocked, and Mr. Walton entered, and saw at once that a gentle but strong will must control the sufferer for his own good. Mental and nervous excitement had driven him close to the line where reason and his own will wavered in their decisions, and his irregular, tottering steps became the type of the whole man. His eyes were wild and bloodshot. A ghastly pallor gave his haggard face the look of death. A damp dullness pervaded the heavy air of the room, which in his unrest he had greatly disordered. The fire had died out, and he had not even tried to kindle it again. His broodings had been so deep and painful during the earlier part of the night that he had been oblivious of his surroundings, and then physical anguish became so sharp that all small elements of discomfort were unnoted. With fatherly solicitude Mr. Waiton stepped up to his guest, who stood staring at him as if he were an intruder, and taking his cold hand, said, "Mr. Gregory, you must come with me." "Where?" "To the sitting-room, where we can take care of you and relieve you. Come, I'm your physician for the time being, and doctors must be obeyed." Gregory had not undressed the night before, and, wrapped in his rich dressing-gown and with dishevelled hair, he mechanically followed his host to the room below and was placed on the lounge. "Annie has prepared you a nice little breakfast. Won't you let me bring it to you?" said Mr. Waiton, cheerily. "No," said Gregory, abruptly, and pressing his hands upon his throbbing temples, "the very thought of eating is horrible. Please leave me. Indeed I cannot endure even your kindly presence." Mr. Walton looked perplexed and scarcely knew what to do, but after a moment said, "Really, Mr. Gregory, you are very ill. I think I had better send for our physician at once." "I insist that you do not," said his guest, starting up. "What could a stupid country doctor do for me, with his owl-like examination of my tongue and clammy fingering of my pulse, but drive me mad? I must be alone." "Father," said Annie, in a firm and quiet voice, "I will be both nurse and physician to Mr. Gregory this morning. If I fail, you may send for a doctor." Unperceived she had entered, and from Gregory's manner and words understood his condition.