"You are, Jack; you are more--my very brother at heart; and if you ever think again of my cruel sacrilegious doubts, set them down as a sick man's fancies, and then bury them for ever. And--Jack, old friend--let last night's outburst be a thing that's dead." "I promise you, Scarlett, upon my word." "Thanks, Jack, thanks! I shiver when I think of it. If Kate knew, it would break her heart." The doctor was silent. "When I came back with my brain reeling, I was drunk with a great joy. You know what I had fancied. O Jack! if I could forgive myself!--but I never can." "You are growing excited. You must be quiet, now." "Excited, man? Oh, it is only with my happiness. That accursed idea, born of my nervous state, was eating my very life away; while now that I know that it was but the foul emanation of my own brain, I can scarcely contain myself, and I seem to have leaped back to health and strength." Scales did not speak. "But I am forgetting.--Good heavens! I have slept away the day, and the night is here. That wretched girl!" The doctor gazed at him fixedly, asking himself if his friend's brain was wandering. "She promised to meet him--at some station--in London--to-night. Jack, it must be stopped before it is too late.--Where is that scoundrel Prayle?" "He left this morning, early, to catch the train." "And I've lain here as if in a stupor--Quick, Jack--my wife--no, poor girl, she must not be troubled with this; she has borne enough. Ring for--No; fetch my aunt. Yes; she will be the best. Go, old fellow, quick!" "Is he wandering, or am I a fool?" muttered the doctor, as he hurried from the room to encounter Lady Scarlett on the stairs. "He is worse!" she cried. "No, no," said the doctor, almost roughly. "Not yet. You must not go, Lady Scarlett. I forbid it." She shrank back meekly. "Tell me that he is in no danger," she said imploringly. "Yes; I do tell you that," he said with a feeling of repugnance that would tinge his voice.--"Where is Miss Raleigh?" "In the drawing-room. I will fetch her," cried Lady Scarlett, rushing to perform the task, while the doctor stood rubbing his ear. "It is I who am mad," he said to himself, "and not poor Scarlett.--Yes," he said aloud, as Aunt Sophia came up, "Scarlett wants to see you at once." He led the way back, and closed the door almost angrily after them, leaving Lady Scarlett with her head leaning against the wall, as the tears coursed down her cheeks. "Why does he dislike me so?" she sighed. "He is jealous of my love for him--they are such friends. I ought to hate him; but how can I when he is so true!" "Auntie!" exclaimed Scarlett excitedly, as the old lady entered his room, "I want you, quick--before it is too late. That smooth-tongued scoundrel Prayle--" "Amen!" said Aunt Sophia softly.