"I don't approve of it," remarked Storge in desperation, "still, as it's a case of brain fever if things go on like this, the chance of accelerating the disease doesn't make much difference, so you'd better begin your disillusionising at once." "Very well," replied Gartney with a sigh of relief, and this closed the conversation. It was a disagreeable task to undertake, but not more so than that connected with Mrs. Veilsturm, and Eustace made up his mind to speak to Errington at once. "The sooner things are brought to a crisis the better," he thought, as he went up to his cousin's room. "As they stand now, it's quite impossible to move either way." Guy was lying with his arms outside the counterpane, when Mr. Gartney entered, and turned his eyes, unnaturally bright, in the direction of the door when he heard his cousin's footstep. "Anything from Mrs. Veilsturm?" he asked eagerly. "Nothing," responded Eustace, and took a seat beside the bed. "What can be the matter with her?" said Guy, feverishly. "Eustace, why don't you find out? It's cruel of you to keep me in suspense." "I won't keep you in suspense any longer." "What?" Guy sat up in his bed with a cry, but Eustace forced him to lie down again. "Keep quiet, or I won't tell you," he said sternly. "By-the-way, if you don't want Albert, he had better go downstairs. I want to speak to you privately." "Yes! yes! you can go, Albert. Mr. Gartney will stay with me." The well-trained valet bowed his head in answer, arranged a few things on the little table beside the bed, and then noiselessly withdrew, leaving the cousins together. "Well, Eustace, well?" said Guy, plucking restlessly at the bedclothes. "What is the matter? Nothing wrong with Mrs. Veilsturm." "Not that I'm aware of," responded Gartney drily. "She is a lady who can take remarkably good care of herself." "Don't talk like that about her," said Guy, with weak anger, "she is my friend." "Your friend!" repeated Eustace scornfully. "Yes, the same kind of friend as she is to every man!" "Eustace!" He sat up again with a fierce look on his face, but the calm gaze of his cousin disconcerted him, and he sank back on the pillows with an impatient sigh. "I don't understand you," he said fretfully. "I don't understand--my head is aching--aching terribly." "Guy, old fellow," said Eustace, in his low, soft voice, which had such an indescribable charm in its tones, "I want to speak to you about your wife." "My wife?" "Yes! I have a confession to make to you. I love your wife." Guy looked at his cousin vacantly, and as if he did not understand. "You love my wife?" he repeated mechanically. "You love my wife?"