'My husband was not obliged to live in chambers--he had a home here.' 'Yes; but young men, unless they are sportsmen, hate the country; and then, once in the London vortex, a man can't easily escape. And now, I suppose, I had better go and see the patient. Does he know I have been sent for?' 'No.' 'Then perhaps we shall have a scene. He may be angry.' 'I must risk that,' said Ida, firmly. 'He refused to be treated by our family doctor, and I felt that things could not go on any longer as they were going on.' She led the way to Brian's room. He was lounging by the open window, smoking; his books and papers were scattered about the tables in reckless disorder. 'Dr. Mallison has come to see you, Brian,' said Ida, quietly, as the physician followed her into the room. 'You sent for him, then!' exclaimed Brian, starting up angrily. 'There was no alternative; you refused to be attended by Mr. Fosbroke.' 'Fosbroke--a village apothecary, the parish doctor, who would have poisoned me. Yes, I should think so. How dare you send for anyone? How dare you treat me like a child?' 'I dare do anything which I believe to be for your good,' Ida answered, unflinchingly. He quailed before her, and changed his tone in a moment. 'Well, if it gratifies you to spend your money upon physicians--How do you do, Dr. Mallison? Of course, I am very glad to see you, as a friend; but I want no doctoring.' 'I'm afraid you do,' said the physician. 'You have not done what I told you when I saw you in London.' 'What was that?' 'To give up all stimulants.' 'Oh, that was impossible! It's just like asking a man to shut his mouth, and breathe only through his nostrils, when he has lived all his life with his mouth open. No man can change his habits all at once, at the fiat of a physician. But I have been very moderate ever since I saw you.' 'And yet you have had another attack?' 'Who told you that?' asked Brian, with an angry glance at his wife. 'Your own appearance tells me--yes, and your pulse. You have been indulging in the old habits--nipping all day long; and you have been sleeping badly.' 'Sleeping badly!' muttered Brian moodily; 'I wish to Heaven I could sleep anyhow. I have forgotten the sensation of being asleep--I don't know what it means. Just as I fancy myself dropping off there comes a flash of light in my eyes, and I am broad awake again. The other night I thought it lightened perpetually, but my wife said there was no lightning.' 'A case of shattered nerves, and all your own doing,' said Dr. Mallison. 'You must leave off brandy.' 'Brandy has left me off,' retorted Brian. 'My wife and her step-mother have gone in for strict economy. I am not allowed a spoonful of cognac, although I tell them it is the only thing that staves off racking neuralgic pains.