"Let me see," said the cheery little man; "let me see. I think you said your wedding was fixed for a month after the accident. Well, if you don't want to be all right until a month, I'll have to give you some powerful medicine to keep you back. It's amazing, ma'am," he said, turning to Mrs. Creagh, who sat smiling pleasantly at the bedside. She was a plump, fair, good-looking woman, between fifty and sixty, with a genial, round face, and a gracious, cordial manner, which are better in a sick room than all the medicines in the Pharmacop[oe]ia. "It is amazing, ma'am, how these young men will get well in spite of us doctors. We can generally manage to polish off the old people in a handsome, becoming, and professional way; but these young people are dead against us--or alive against us, what's worse. Whenever, Mrs. Creagh, you hear of a doctor dying of a broken heart, it is _always_--mind, I say _always_--because of the stubbornness of the young people. Ordinary men die of broken hearts because of love, or business, or something of that kind; but when a patient defies prussic acid, nux vomica, or aqua pura, it is all up with one of our profession." "By-the-way, O'Malley," said O'Donnell, "have you got a couple of hours to spare to-day?" "My dear fellow, pending the arrival of the official documents appointing me Surgeon-in-ordinary to the Queen, I can spare you a couple of hours." "Then I'd be very much obliged to you," said O'Donnell, "if you'd run into Rathclare and see the old people. I am very anxious about them. I know the governor always has his hands full of business, and that my mother does not wish to be away from him, but I cannot help wondering why neither of them has come out. I am greatly afraid there must be something the matter with the governor. Of course Mrs. Creagh or Nellie writes twice a day, and we hear once a day; but I can't make out how neither of them has come here." "I'm sure your father is in excellent health," said O'Malley; "but if it will relieve your mind in the slightest degree, I shall go in by the next train and come out with news." O'Malley went straight to the railway station and took the first train leaving Glengowra for Rathclare. He of course knew, or guessed, why it was neither father nor mother came to visit the son; but under the circumstances it was best to humour Eugene and see Mr. and Mrs. O'Donnell. He found the old couple in the small library behind the dining-room. The window of this looked into the garden in the rear, and so was shielded from prying eyes. "Dr. O'Malley," cried the woman, rising to her feet, "have they been writing me lies? Is he worse?"