"They have told me all they know. It is very little. Shortly after being taken into their hospitable house, you and your brother present yourselves. You are not related to her in any way--interrupt me if I am wrong--and you at once place yourself on terms of loving intimacy with her. You walk with her, hand in hand, you conduct yourself as a lover toward her. Your behavior places her in an equivocal position--I have no hesitation in saying so much--and I, an old-fashioned gentleman, with old-fashioned notions of honor, regard your proceedings with disfavor. The restoration of her health is placed in my hands, and I, a physician of some experience, find in the patient herself obstacles which it is out of my power to surmount. You two gentlemen do not assist me in the least; you give no information concerning her which may assist me in the duty devolving upon me as a professional man. For there is here some mental disturbance, the result of a severe shock, I judge to her heart and feelings, of which I am in complete ignorance, and which renders me practically powerless. Nevertheless, the interest she has created in me causes me to make a study of the case, and I have a vague notion that I could find a road to a cure if I were in possession of the particulars of her history. Control your excitement." But Gerald was not to be restrained. He started to his feet, and bending toward the doctor, said, in his most earnest tone: "Doctor, there is no fee you can name which I should deem too high if you can restore the mind of my dear girl." "My fee," said the doctor, dryly, "is half-a-crown a visit, medicine included, and the poor young lady is in no position to pay even so small a bill." "I am responsible for everything." "From you, as matters stand, I should decline to accept a penny. You are acquainted with the story of the young girl's life?" "I am." "I have no right to force your confidence. If you choose to confide in me, I may be able to do as I have said." "I will tell you everything unreservedly," said Gerald, "on the understanding that it does not pass your lips to another person." "Let it be so," said the doctor, after a little pause, "for the young lady's sake." "It is for her sake," said Gerald, "that I exact the pledge of secrecy." Then he began the story, and related it faithfully, down to the smallest detail. It occupied him some time, but the doctor did not once interrupt him, but kept his eyes fixed upon Gerald's face, his own growing brighter and brighter as the young man proceeded. The story finished, there was silence for a minute or two, during which the doctor sat with his head resting in his hand. "Is there hope, doctor?" cried Gerald, the first to speak. "Tell me, is there hope?" "There is," replied the doctor, removing his hand. "The road is open to you if you will take it." "Does it, then, depend upon me?" exclaimed Gerald.