"No; he is now shut up in the library, and Mrs Milt has a terrible account of his eccentricity; she fears that he is going--" "No, no, no! Don't say that," cried Mary; "it is too horrible. But quick! What are you going to do?" "Drive over to King's Hampton, take the train to Lowcaster, and come back with two of the principal physicians." "No," said Mary sharply. "Telegraph at once to Mr Delton. Tell him his friend North is in urgent need of his help. He believes in North, and looks upon him almost as a son. His advice will be worth that of a dozen Lowcaster physicians." "Mary, you're a pearl among women," cried Salis. "Don't stop to speak," she cried, with an energy that startled him. "Your friend's life--his reason--is in peril. Go!" "My friend; the man that poor broken-spirited creature loves," muttered Salis, as he hurried away, and was soon after urging his hired pony to a gallop. "Oh, what moles we men are!" he said, as the hedges and trees flew by him. "But who could have suspected her of caring for him? Lying crushed and broken there, and no one suspecting the agonies she must have suffered." Realising by slow degrees the depth of his sister's love for North, and the life she must have led, Salis urged the pony on to reach King's Hampton at last, and hurry to the post-office, to despatch his telegram beseeching the old doctor to send a reply; and for this he determined to sit down and wait, but only to pace the coffee-room of the nearest hotel, with his mind a chaos of bewildering ideas, as he wondered what was to be the end of this new trouble which had come upon his house. Volume 3, Chapter XII. A STORMY INTERVIEW. The old housekeeper had indeed a long series of eccentricities to record to Salis, speaking freely to him, as to her master's firmest friend, though what she knew and had diminished in intensity more than magnified was but a tithe of that which had occurred. For it had been a terrible period for the young doctor. Half wrecked by the mental and bodily injuries he had received, the course he had pursued in shutting himself up alone, dreading to be surprised in suddenly uttering some wild speech or committing some vagary, had intensified the abnormal condition of his brain till his sufferings seemed to grow unbearable. One hour he felt at peace, the next he had none, and asked himself what he was to do to escape the terrible unseen presence that was always with him, never addressing him, but, as it were, making his body the medium by which he communicated with the world. "I can bear it no longer," North said to himself at last. "There must be rest for me if I cannot shake it off." He shuddered slightly as he paced his darkened room, knowing instinctively how many steps to take in each direction, and what to avoid. For Death, familiar as it was to him, was not without its terrors.