"Nothing easier," I assured her. "I can hobble about now on crutches, and with a little help can get in and out of a carriage; so I will drive over to you immediately after lunch." "Won't you come now and lunch with us?" "No; at lunch we should all three have to be together, and I would rather see your daughter by herself." "Very well, then," said Mrs. Derwent, and gathering up the folds of her soft silk gown she left me. Early this afternoon I drove over to their place, and found both ladies sitting on the piazza. May greeted me very sweetly, but I at once noticed the peculiar tension of her manner, the feverish glitter of her eyes, the slight trembling of her lips, and did not wonder at her mother's anxiety. After a little desultory conversation, Mrs. Derwent left us alone. I doubt if the girl was even aware of her departure, or of the long pause which I allowed to follow it. "May, Dr. Fortescue, whom you have read about in connection with the Rosemere tragedy, is a great friend of mine." She stared at me with horror. I felt a perfect brute, but as I believed it was for her good I persisted: "I think he saw you when you were in town." She staggered to her feet; I caught her to prevent her falling, and laid her gently on a divan. "Lie still," I commanded, looking her steadily in the eye. "Lie still, I tell you; you are in no condition to get up. Now, listen to me, May; I know you have had a shock, and your nerves are consequently thoroughly unstrung. Now, do you wish to be seriously ill, or do you not?" My quiet tones seemed to calm her. "Of course I don't want to be ill," she murmured. "Then you must not go on as you have been doing lately. Will you let your old playfellow doctor you a little? Will you promise to take some medicine I am going to send you? I must tell you that, unless you will do what I say, you will be delirious in a few hours." I thought that argument would fetch her. "Yes, yes," she exclaimed. "What shall I do?" and she put her hand to her head and gazed about her helplessly. "In the first place, you must go to bed immediately." "I can't do that; Mr. Norman will be here in a few hours." "Well, I can't help it. To bed you must go, and from what I hear of that young man he will be as anxious as anybody to have you do what is best for you." "But--" she objected.--"There is no 'but.' Unless you at once do as I tell you, you will be down with brain fever." "Very well, then," she meekly replied; "I will go to bed."