'I would not take five guineas and tell you what she says,' cried Toole. 'Don't mind the old blackguard, mother dear!' screamed Magnolia, dealing AEsculapius a lusty slap on the back; and the cook at that moment knocking at the door, called off the young lady to the larder, who cried over her shoulder as she lingered a moment at the door--'Now, send her something, Toole, for my sake, to do her poor heart good. Do you mind--for faith and troth the dear old soul is sick and sad; and I won't let that brute, Sturk, though he does wear our uniform, next or near her.' 'Well, 'tisn't for me to say, eh?--and now she's gone,--just let me try.' And he took her pulse. CHAPTER XXX. CONCERNING A CERTAIN WOMAN IN BLACK. And Toole, holding her stout wrist, felt her pulse and said--'Hem--I see--and--' And so he ran on with half-a-dozen questions, and at the end of his catechism said, bluntly enough-- 'I tell you what it is, Mrs. Mack, you have something on your mind, my dear Madam, and till it's off, you'll never be better.' Poor Mrs. Mack opened her eyes, and made a gesture of amazed disclaimer, with her hands palm upwards. It was all affectation. 'Pish!' said Toole, who saw the secret almost in his grasp; 'don't tell me, my dear Madam--don't you think I know my business by this time o' day? I tell you again you'd better ease your mind--or take my word for it you'll be sorry too late. How would you like to go off like poor old Peggy Slowe--eh? There's more paralysis, apoplexy, heart-diseases, and lunacy, caused in one year by that sort of silly secrecy and moping, than by--hang it! My dear Madam,' urged Toole, breaking into a bold exhortation on seeing signs of confusion and yielding in his fat patient--'you'd tell me all that concerns your health, and know that Tom Toole would put his hand in the fire before he'd let a living soul hear a symptom of your case; and here's some paltry little folly or trouble that I would not--as I'm a gentleman--give a half-penny to hear, and you're afraid to tell me--though until you do, neither I, nor all the doctors in Europe, can do you a ha'porth o' good.' 'Sure I've nothing to tell, doctor dear,' whimpered poor Mrs. Mack, dissolving into her handkerchief. 'Look ye--there's no use in trying to deceive a doctor that knows what he's about.' Toole was by this time half mad with curiosity. 'Don't tell me what's on your mind, though I'd be sorry you thought I wasn't ready and anxious, to help you with my best and most secret services; but I confess, my dear Ma'am, I'd rather not hear--reserve it for some friend who has your confidence--but 'tis plain from the condition you're in'--and Toole closed his lips hard, and nodded twice or thrice--'you have not told either the major or your daughter; and tell it you must to _some_ one, or take the consequences.'