“Well,” said Greatrakes, “keep your counsel for the present. I will study this matter, and examine into it; and I shall most certainly receive your informations against him; but I must have better opportunities for making myself acquainted with the facts. In the meantime keep your own secret, and leave the rest to me.” When Greatrakes reached Rathfillan House the whole family attended him to the sick bed of Charles. Woodward was there, and appeared to feel a deep interest in the fate of his brother. Greatrakes, on looking at him, said, before he applied the sanative power which God had placed in his constitution,-- “This young man is dying of a slow and subtle poison, which some person under the roof of this house has been administering to him in small doses.” As he uttered these words he fixed his eyes upon Woodward, whose face quailed and blanched under the power and significance of his gaze. “Sir,” replied Lindsay, “with the greatest respect for you, there is not a single individual under this roof who would injure him. He is beloved by every one. The sympathy felt for him through the whole parish is wonderful--but by none more than by his brother Woodward.” This explanation, however, came too late. Greatrakes's impressions were unchanged. “I think I will cure him,” he proceeded; “but after his recovery let him be cautious in taking any drink unless from the hands of his mother or his father.” He then placed his hands over his face and chest, which he kept rubbing for at least a quarter of an hour, when, to their utter astonishment, Charles pronounced himself in as good health as he had ever enjoyed in his lift. “This, sir,” said he, “is wonderful; why, I am perfectly restored to health. As I live, this man must have the power of God about him to be able to effect such an extraordinary cure: and he has also cured my darling Alice. What can I say? Father, give him a hundred--five hundred pounds.” Greatrakes smiled. “You don't know, it seems,” he replied, “that I do not receive remuneration for any cures I may effect. I am wealthy and independent, and I fear that if I were to make the wonderful gift which God has bestowed on me the object of mercenary gain, it might be withdrawn from me altogether. My principle is one of humanity and benevolence. I will remain in Rathfillan for a fortnight, and shall see you again,” he added, addressing himself to Charles. “Now,” he proceeded, “mark me, you will require neither drinks nor medicine of any description. Whatever drinks you take, take them at the common table of the family. There are circumstances connected with your case which, as a magistrate of the county, I am I resolved to investigate.” He looked sternly at Woodward as he uttered the last words, and then took his departure to Rathfillan, having first told Barney Casey to call on him the next day. After Greatrakes had gone, Woodward repaired to the room of his mother, in a state of agitation which we cannot describe.