“Well, it’s never a good thing to be weak,” said Dr. Barker, “but there’s a kind of truth in it. For the fever sometimes runs higher with a man in the prime of life. Keep up your spirits. If no complications arise we’ll pull him through.” Those cheerful tones found no response in the countenance of Letitia, which was tragical in the paleness of passionate feeling. Every word that was uttered by the medical optimist was like a knell in Letitia’s heart. If it should be so indeed--but it could not, it would not be so. “Mrs. Parke has always taken too serious a view,” said the cheerful doctor. “I have told her so for years.” “I don’t say that I don’t always take a serious view,” said Letitia. “It is my temperament I suppose--but you will bear me witness, doctor, that I never have been so anxious about my own children as I have been about Mar.” “Yes, that is true,” said the doctor, with a quick glance at her, in which there was something uncertain, doubtful. Perhaps it was the look of suppressed excitement in her which struck Dr. Barker as something strange. She was not an over-anxious mother. Was it love or another sentiment that made her so tragic about Mar? A slight shiver ran over the honest and sensible country practitioner, but he was far too little accustomed to evil passions to follow it further. He could not take into his mind such a dreadful thought; it was like a ghostly figure sweeping by in the dark, such as he sometimes met on lonely roads on winter nights--not able to tell whether it was a belated fugitive or a distorted shadow. Another subject of more practical importance, as he thought, displaced this vague apprehension. “By the by,” he said, “I must not forget one thing. I have been talking to you of the state of those cottages on the other side of the park for years. I’ve got the water to analyze which these poor people are drinking, and I believe it’s the cause of poor young Frogmore’s illness. Let this be a reason at once for seeing after their condition: at least it will be getting some good out of the evil which now you cannot prevent. You know I’ve been talking about it for years.” “The cottages?” said John. He added, “You know I’m in a peculiar position, I can do nothing without Blotting. It’s not as if it was my own property.”