"Sit down, Aaron," drawing a chair near her, "and tell me all that there is to be told. Oh for one look from his kind eyes!--for one word from those lips that will never speak to me again!" It was an easy-chair she had given to Aaron; he sat in it, gazing at the fire, his chin resting on his hand. The weather was very chilly still, though June was near; and the large old Hall never seemed hot even in the sultry days of summer. "It seems to me very strange, Aaron," began Ella, for the old man did not attempt to speak, "that there should be no signs observable, no apparent intimations that Uncle Gilbert was so near his end. What has the Doctor--Jago--to say about it?" "I never saw a man more dumbfounded than Dr. Jago was," replied Aaron. "Says he, looking down at the poor Squire, 'I made sure that he would last for months yet'--maybe, you see, Miss Ella, he thought his treatment had put a new lease of life into him." "What _was_ the treatment?" The old man glanced suspiciously up for a moment, and then dropped his eyes again, "As if I could tell what it was in particular, Miss Ella! I'm no doctor. Jago can tell--if he will. It seemed to do the master good; to put a deal of strength into him." "Did Dr. Jago come daily?" "That he did. No medical man could be more attentive than he has been. He never once missed a day, week-days or Sundays." "Then he saw him the day he died." "Ay. He was here that day at mid-day, ma'am; and the Squire died at midnight in the evening." "And he saw no change in my uncle that day; no symptoms of danger?" "None at all; none. I met him as he came out of the room that very morning. 'And how do we find ourselves to-day, Doctor?' says I. 'Pretty much as usual,' says he. 'If anything, a bit brighter and more lively. He's doing very nicely, indeed, only you must not encourage him to talk too much; mind that. He is just as fond of a bit of gossip as ever he was.' With that, Dr. Jago bids me good-morning, and goes off, whistling softly to himself. No, no," muttered the old man, "he saw no signs of danger." "And what does Dr. Jago say was the immediate cause of death?" sighed Ella. "It's a long queer word he made use of," said Aaron. "Par---- something." "Paralysis?" suggested Ella. "It means that, I take it. Paralysis of the heart, Miss Ella. Hubert said syncope--but he is not a doctor. There was no suffering; none. He went off as quietly as one sinks to sleep." "I can't help wishing that my uncle had never sent for Dr. Jago," mused Ella. "I had far more confidence in Dr. Spreckley, who had studied his constitution for years." "The Squire used to say," cried Aaron, "that he should never have been alive so long, if it hadn't been for Dr. Jago." "It may be so. Who now can tell? But I was deeply grieved when Dr. Spreckley ceased to attend him. I thought--some instinct seemed to warn me--that it might not be for the best."