It may have been that the love of one was deeper than that of the other, though that was doubtful. It rather seemed to be that while Alleyne was cut to the heart by the bitterness of the rebuff that he had met, a certain amount of resentment against one whom he looked upon as a light and trivial flirt had softened Oldroyd's blow. But, to the latter's surprise, his friend and patient made no further remark. He sat gazing at vacancy for a few moments, and then allowed his head to rest once more upon his hand, as if about to go to sleep; but at the first movement made by Oldroyd he looked up again, and replaced the shade upon his lamp. "Life is so short," he said, with a grave smile; "time goes so very fast, Oldroyd, I must get on. You will excuse me, I know." "Yes, I must be getting on as well. I shall call in upon you oftener than I have lately. You will perhaps come out with me again sometimes." "Out with you! To see your patient the poacher?" "Oh, no," replied Oldroyd, smiling. "He is quite well again now. I have not been there these two months; but I can soon find an object for a walk." "A walk? Yes, perhaps. We shall see. Will you close the shutters when you go. I must have darkness for such work as this." "Yes, I'll close them," said Oldroyd quietly; and crossing the room he did what he had been requested before walking out of the observatory, leaving Alleyne absorbed once more in his thoughts, and too intent to raise his head as his visitor bade him good-day. By accident or design, Oldroyd encountered Lucy once more in crossing the hall, bowing to her gravely, his salute being received with chilling courtesy by the young lady, who again hurried away, truth to tell, to ascend to her bedroom and cry over the unhappy way in which her life course was being turned. "Well," said Mrs Alleyne anxiously, as she advanced to meet Oldroyd, "what do you think?" "Exactly what I thought before I saw your son, madam. He is again setting Nature at defiance and suffering for the sin." "And what is to be done?" Oldroyd shook his head as he thought of the medicine that would have cured Alleyne's complaint--a remedy that appeared to be unattainable, watched as it were by a military dragon of the name of Rolph, and all the young doctor could say for the anxious mother's comfort was on leaving,-- "We must wait." Volume 3, Chapter III. A DISCOVERY. "Lucy, I have something very particular to say to you," said Mrs Alleyne one morning directly after breakfast, over which she had sat very stern and cold of mien. "Mamma!" exclaimed Lucy, flushing. "I desire that you be perfectly frank with me. I insist upon knowing everything at once." Lucy's pretty face fired up a deeper crimson for a few moments under this examination. Then she grew pale as she rose from her seat and stood confronting her mother. "I do not think I quite understand you, mamma," she faltered. "Lucy!"