“Ah! but they want something more than that. He ought to move about, to travel, and she ought to be tempted back to interest in life with some of the pretty things she is so fond of. Haven’t they any relations who could manage that?” Ella’s face brightened with a little smile as she nodded assent. “I think the relations can be found,” she said. Apparently the doctor thought he had put the suggestion into good hands, for he looked at her very good-humouredly as he held out his hand and bade her good-bye. “The gentleman who was dismissed for me will be wishing me all the nauseous draughts I ever prescribed,” said he drily. Ella grew superbly disdainful. “Oh no,” she cried with haughty emphasis. “He is only a silly young fellow who was a fellow-officer of Mr. Lauriston’s, and who is so fond of him that he has come down here on purpose to see him, although he puts off doing so from day to day for fear of waking in him recollections which might distress him.” The doctor was more than satisfied with this elaborate explanation. “I dare say he manages to fill up his time agreeably enough--in this pleasant neighbourhood,” said he gravely. And he raised his hat and left her before she had time to utter another protest. Now, quite unintentionally, Dr. Bannerman had done a very ill turn to a most harmless and kindly fellow-mortal. Clarence Massey, the humble companion whom he displaced at Ella’s side, having been attracted to Ella by the devotion with which she had worked for his friend George Lauriston, had raised up an altar to her in his most affectionate and warm heart, on which, figuratively speaking, he burned incense all day long. Whenever and wherever she would let him, he followed like a dog, bearing her snappish fits with beautiful meekness, accepting any remarks she liked to throw to him, as precious pearls to be treasured in his memory; gentle, loyal, and devoted always. Ella, who had begun by laughing at him, had been thawed by his distracted anxiety and misery over George Lauriston’s misfortunes, until from tolerating she had begun to like him. And now, just as she was getting so amiable to him that he had begun to entertain hopes which he had the sense and modesty to think extravagant, this light suggestion on the part of a stranger chilled her into anger at the thought that any one should think her capable of a serious thought for so unintellectual a person as Clarence Massey. She had promised, on Doctor Bannerman’s approach, to rejoin Clarence on the Hoe; but it was with the step of an offended empress that the plain little girl met this well-provided young fellow, on whom a dozen mammas of marriageable daughters now fixed longing eyes. “Well, what does he say?” asked Clarence, afraid from the expression of her face that the report was bad.