“I have my carriage outside.” He told me something of the case as we went. It was a young fellow, an only son, who had been suffering from nervous symptoms for some time, and lately from considerable pain in his head. “His people are living with a patient of mine, General Wainwright,” said Porter. “He didn’t like the symptoms, and thought he would have a second opinion.” We came to the house, a great big one, in its own grounds, and had a preliminary talk with the dark-faced, white-haired Indian soldier who owns it. He was explaining the responsibility that he felt, the patient being his nephew, when a lady entered the room. “This is my sister, Mrs. La Force,” said he, “the mother of the gentleman whom you are going to see.” I recognised her instantly. I had met her before and under curious circumstances. (Dr. Stark Munro here proceeds to narrate again how he had met the La Forces, having evidently forgotten that he had already done so in Letter VI.) When she was introduced I could see that she had not associated me with the young doctor in the train. I don’t wonder, for I have started a beard, in the hope of making myself look a little older. She was naturally all anxiety about her son, and we went up with her (Porter and I) to have a look at him. Poor fellow! he seemed peakier and more sallow than when I had seen him last. We held our consultation, came to an agreement about the chronic nature of his complaint, and finally departed without my reminding Mrs. La Force of our previous meeting. Well, there the matter might have ended; but about three days afterwards who should be shown into my consulting room but Mrs. La Force and her daughter. I thought the latter looked twice at me, when her mother introduced her, as if she had some recollection of my face; but she evidently could not recall where she had seen it, and I said nothing to help her. They both seemed to be much distressed in mind--indeed, the tears were brimming over from the girl’s eyes, and her lip was quivering. “We have come to you, Doctor Munro, in the greatest distress,” said Mrs. La Force; “we should be very glad of your advice.” “You place me in rather a difficult position, Mrs. La Force,” said I. “The fact is, that I look upon you as Dr. Porter’s patients, and it is a breach of etiquette upon my part to hold any communication with you except through him.” “It was he who sent us here,” said she. “Oh, that alters the matter entirely.” “He said he could do nothing to help us, and that perhaps you could.” “Pray let me know what you wish done.” She set out valorously to explain; but the effort of putting her troubles into words seemed to bring them more home to her, and she suddenly blurred over and became inarticulate. Her daughter bent towards her, and kissed her with the prettiest little spasm of love and pity.