'Oh, Brian, thank God you are safe!' said his wife, as he came slowly into the room, and sank into a chair. 'What a scare you have given us all!' 'Did you think I was drowned, or that I had cut my throat?' he asked, sneeringly. 'I don't think either event would have mattered much to anyone in this house.' His manner was entirely different from what it had been last night. His words were cool and deliberate, his expression moody, but in nowise irrational. 'You have no right to say that; but people who say such things seldom mean what they say,' replied Ida, quietly. 'Had you not better go to your room at once and change your clothes, or take a warm bath. It is a kind of suicide to wander about all day in wet clothes as you have done.' 'Who told you I was wandering about all day?' 'Vernon told us.' 'Vernon!' He started, as if suddenly remembering the boy's existence; and then in an agitated manner asked, 'Did he come home? Is he all right?' 'He came home, thank God; at least, he was brought home. I doubt if he could have found his way back alone. I am afraid he is going to be ill.' 'Nonsense! a little cold, perhaps; nothing more. It was a diabolical day. I never saw such rain--a regular tropical down-pour. But what is a shower of rain for a healthy boy?' 'Not much, perhaps, if he is able to change his clothes directly afterwards. But to be wandering about for hours in wet clothes, without food,--that is enough to kill a stronger boy than my brother.' 'It won't kill him, you may depend,' said Brian, with a cynical laugh; 'I should profit too much by his death: and I'm not one of fortune's favourites. He's tough enough.' 'Brian, you have no more heart than a stone.' 'Perhaps not. All the heart I had I gave to you, and you made a football of it; but "Why should a heart have been there, in the way of a fair woman's foot?" as the poet asks.' 'Had you not better go to your room and take off your wet clothes?' repeated Ida. She had no inclination to argue or remonstrate with a man whose mind was so evidently askew, who had long ago passed the boundary line of principle and noble thought, and had become a mere creature of impulse, blown this way or that way by every gust of passion,--so weak a sinner that her scornful anger was tempered by pity. 'If you are anxious I should escape a severe cold, perhaps you will be liberal enough to allow me a little brandy,' said Brian. Ida was doubtful how to reply. She had been told to withhold all stimulants, and yet this was an exceptional case. Happily at this very moment the door was opened, and Mr. Fosbroke, the family doctor, was announced. She ran to meet him. 'Vernon has had a severe wetting, and we are afraid he is going to be ill,' she said. 'I'll take you upstairs at once. Mamma is with him.' As soon as they were outside in the hall she told him about Brian's request, and asked his advice.