“I don't like to offer rude counsels, but my art sometimes gives a man scant choice,” said he, after a brief pause. “I'd say, take your husband away, get him down to that place on the Shannon,--you have it still? Well, get him down there; he can always amuse himself; he's fond of field-sports, and people are sure to be attentive to him in the neighborhood; and leave the old Judge to fall back into the well-worn groove of his former life. He'll soon send for Tom and his daughter, and they 'll fall into his ways, or, what 's better, _he_ will fall into _theirs_,--without either ruining his health or his fortune; plain speaking all this, Mrs. Sewell, but you asked for frankness, and told me it would not be ill taken.” “I don't think Colonel Sewell would consent to this plan.” “Would _you?_” asked he, bluntly. “My consent would not be asked; there's no need to discuss it.” “I meant, do you sufficiently concur in it to advise it?” “I can advise nothing. I advance nothing. I oppose nothing. I had thought, Dr. Beattie, that your visits to this house might have taught you the place I occupy, and the consideration I am held in.” This was ground the doctor would not enter upon, and he adroitly said: “I think it will be the saving of Colonel Sewell himself. Club gossip says that he loses heavily every night; and though his means may be considerable--” “But they are not,--he has nothing,--not a shilling, except what this place brings in.” “All the more reason not to play; but I must not keep you out here all night. I 'll come early in the morning, and hope to find him better. Remember how essential quiet is to him; let him not be disturbed; no talking by way of amusing him; pure rest--mind that.” “If he wishes to see my husband, or asks for him--” “I'd make some excuse; say he is out. Colonel Se well excites him; he never fully understood Sir William; and I fear, besides, that he now and then took a humoristic pleasure in those bursts of temper which it is always only too easy to provoke.” “He is very fond of my little boy,--might he go in?” “I think not. I'd say downright repose and isolation. You yourself can step in noiselessly from time to time, and only speak if you see that he wishes it; but on no account mention anything that could awaken interest,--nothing to arouse or to excite. You saw the fearful state that letter threw him into to-night, and the paroxysm of rage with which he called for his will to erase Tom Lendrick's name. Now in all probability he will have totally forgotten the whole incident by to-morrow. Good-night.” After he drove off, she still lingered about the spot where they had been talking. Whatever interest the subject might have had for her, it was not through her affections that interest worked, for she hummed an opera air, “Bianca Luna,” and tried to recall some lines of Alfred de Musset's to the “timid planet,” and then sat down upon the steps and gazed at the stars.