“Mind that you don't say I 'm here. I 'm going to Mrs. Eady's room to dry my cloak, and I don't wish the young ladies to be disturbed,” said she, passing hastily on to the housekeeper's room, while L'Estrange made his way to the drawing-room. The only person here, however, was Mr. Harding, who, with his hands behind his back and his head bowed forward, was slowly pacing the room in melancholy fashion. “Brain fever, sir,” muttered he, in reply to the curate's inquiry. “Brain fever, and of a severe kind. Too much application to business--did not give up in time, they say.” “But he looked so well; seemed always so hearty and so cheerful.” “Very true, sir, very true; but as you told us on Sunday, in that impressive discourse of yours, we are only whited sepulchres.” L'Estrange blushed. It was so rare an event for him to be complimented on his talents as a preacher that he half mistrusted the eulogy. “And what else, indeed, are we?” sighed the little man. “Here's our dear friend, with all that the world calls prosperity; he has fortune, station, and fine family, and--” The enumeration of the gifts that made up this lucky man's measure of prosperity was here interrupted by the entrance of Ellen Bramleigh, who came in abruptly and eagerly. “Where's Julia?” cried she; “my maid told me she was here.” L'Estrange answered in a low tone. Ellen, in a subdued voice, said,-- “I'll take her up to my room. I have much to say to her. Will you let her remain here to-night?--you can't refuse. It is impossible she could go back in such weather.” And without waiting for his reply, she hurried away. “I suppose they sent for you, sir?” resumed Harding. “They wished you to see him?” and he made a slight gesture, to point out that he meant the sick man. “No; I came up to see if I could say a few words to Augustus--on a matter purely my own.” “Ha! indeed! I 'm afraid you are not likely to have the opportunity. This is a trying moment, sir. Dr. B., though only a country practitioner, is a man of much experience, and he opines that the membranes are affected.” “Indeed!” “Yes; he thinks it's the membranes; and he derives his opinion from the nature of the mental disturbance, for there are distinct intervals of perfect sanity--indeed, of great mental power. The Colonel was a remarkable man, Mr. L'Estrange; a very remarkable man.” “I 've always heard so.” “Ah, sir, he had great projects--I might call them grand projects, for Ireland, had he been spared to carry them out.” “Let us still hope that he may.” “No, no, sir, that is not to be; and if Belton be correct, it is as well, perhaps, it should not be.” Here he touched his forehead with the top of his finger, and gave a glance of most significant meaning. “Does he apprehend permanent injury to the brain?” The other pursed his mouth, and shook his head slowly, but did not speak. “That's very dreadful,” said L'Estrange, sadly.