By this time the fog was so thick that I doubt whether I should have found the street to which I had been directed had it not been for the assistance of a policeman, who accompanied me to the doctor's house. The doctor himself answered my summons, an elderly gentleman, with a careworn, benignant face, who, when he learned what was required of him, said he would come with me at once. We conversed on the way, and he informed me that he had some knowledge of the Camerons, who had called him two or three months ago to prescribe for the mother. They were respectable people, he told me, who had, like numbers of others in the locality, a hard fight to keep the wolf from the door. They belonged to the class who slaved and suffered patiently and silently; everybody spoke well of them, and the daughter was specially modest and gentle in her manners. Except that they appeared to be superior in point of conduct and education, to their neighbors, he knew nothing more of them. He was surprised, the mother being so ill, that the daughter had not come to him; but yet, on second thoughts, he was not surprised, their peculiar delicacy in money matters stopping the way. It was often so with the poor, who were hyper-sensitive in their pride. I then explained what it was I wished him to do--to attend to the sick woman regularly, and to prescribe what was necessary in the shape of food and medicine. He was to relieve their minds in respect of his fees, which, with all other expenses, I would pay. In token of my sincerity and ability to carry out my desire I begged him to accept a couple of sovereigns in advance, to which he very willingly consented. "My patients are not quite regular in their payments," he said in a gentle tone, "and it is not in my nature to press them. So far as gratitude goes, I am richly repaid. You are, perhaps, a relative of the Camerons." "I am not in any way related to them," I replied. "A friend of long standing, then." "I have never seen the mother, and scarcely an hour ago I saw Miss Cameron for the first time--by chance," I added. "A singular hour," he observed, "and a strange night for a chance meeting." "Yes--but so it happened." And I related how it came about, saying nothing of myself or of the circumstances which caused me to be perambulating the streets at such a time. He was silent for a little while, and I fancied I heard him sigh. Then he said, "You are a gentleman." "I hope I may lay claim to the title." "In station, by which I mean worldly circumstances, far above the Camerons--at least, so I judge." "Well?" "They are poor and lowly. Miss Cameron is young, and not unattractive." "I understand you. My motives are open to suspicion." "Is it not natural?"