But the doctor's further words were lost. Helen had already disappeared, and before he had time to discover Colonel Desmond's whereabouts she had meekly submitted to Miss Walker's sharp reproof for her lengthened absence, and was deep in the intricacies of a long division sum. Helen's sharp eyes had not deceived her with regard to her father's condition. He believed himself that he had never recovered from the effects of a chill contracted during that sad search for his little daughter. Anxious to spare her as much as possible, he had said little of his own sensations at the time. His wife's growing irritability and her evident suffering had kept him silent later, and he was sitting alone in his smoking-room planning a flight to a warmer climate whenever he could summon sufficient energy for the journey, when Dr. Russell found him and ordered him off to bed at once. Mrs. Desmond, dozing comfortably on her sofa, was considerably surprised to see the doctor re-enter the drawing-room a second time unbidden. "Why, dear me!" she exclaimed anxiously, "I thought that you had gone long ago. Am I worse? Are you keeping anything from me? Don't be afraid to tell me my real state. I--" "Don't be alarmed. It is nothing about yourself that I have to say. It regards your husband." "My husband!" The doctor, a little irritated, had spoken abruptly. Mrs. Desmond was really frightened. She forgot that she was an invalid, and started up. "Yes, he is very ill. I have ordered him to go to bed. You had better send for a trained nurse. In the meanwhile, give me pen and ink and I will write a prescription, which you had better have made up at once." "Oh, doctor!" cried Mrs. Desmond, trying to calm herself, "tell me at once what is the matter. I had no idea he was ill." "No; but your little girl had. I met her on the stairs and she begged me to see her father." "Helen!"