I wrote to her, saying that my return was unavoidably delayed, but promised I would do my utmost to be with her on Wednesday. I added that in all probability I should return with a friend, and desired her to tell Mrs. Williams to get the spare room ready. On the Tuesday afternoon I met Dr. F---- by appointment at the house of my friend. I found him reserved, but gentlemanly. He asked me many questions about my wife, to all which I replied as fully as I could. He announced his willingness to return with me and to give his opinion; and in reply to my inquiry named a fee which I thought sufficiently moderate. We left London next morning by an early train and reached Cornpool at about three in the afternoon. I had telegraphed for my phaeton to be in waiting and a little after four we halted at the gate of Elmore Court. Mrs. Williams received us. I asked anxiously after Geraldine. Dr. F---- drew near to hear the reply. "I cannot tell what has come over her, Sir. Since yesterday she has been as changed as though she had been suddenly taken with illness. She fretted a little after you left, but she cleared up before long, and got talking with me on the pleasure it gave her to think of your return. I couldn't help taking notice that she talked much more rationally than she used, and I thought that the health of her mind might be coming back to her. But yesterday morning, when she came down to breakfast, I was shocked by her looks. She was white as a sheet; her eyes rolled, and she talked so wildly and quick I couldn't follow her. My fear was that something had happened to you, Sir. But when I asked her if she had heard bad news from master, she clutched me by the arm and cried out piteously, 'Is there bad news? is there bad news?' I answered, 'Not that I know of.' On which she left me, and stood muttering to herself." "But where is she now?" I asked. "She should be in the drawing-room, Sir." I did not stop to ask if she had expected me; but directing Mrs. Williams to conduct Dr. F---- to his bedroom ran to the drawing-room. I found her walking to and fro with her hands behind her. Mrs. Williams was right. An extraordinary change had come over her since we parted. Her face was ashen pale; beneath her eyes the flesh had fallen and turned dark; her eyes flashed, but a look of fear came into her face when she saw me. "Geraldine--dear Geraldine!" I cried, approaching her with outstretched arms. She stood stock still, then all at once bounded forward with a sharp cry. "It is my darling boy!" she said, throwing her arms around my neck. I kissed her; but I felt her tremble in my embrace. I led her to a sofa. "Did you not expect me, Geraldine?" "Yes, I knew you would come." "And you would not receive me at the door?" "Have you not come to me?" "Of course I have. But, dearest, you look ill. Has anything happened since we parted?" "What should happen?" she said, pushing my hair off my forehead. "But I am sick--I am sick for wanting you."