"Do have patience, ma'am. Wait at least until the doctor comes," said Hobbs, thoroughly alarmed. And she insisted upon it that her mistress must not get up until Dr. Templeton came. "I shall not wait for anything," said Dora. "I tell you that I am going to get up." She left her bed, swayed for a moment on her feet; but presently, standing bravely up without support of any kind, she said, with a laugh-- "You see quite well that I am better. I am cured. I shall dress and go out." "But you are crazy," said Gabrielle. "You are joking, ma'am," added Hobbs. It is true that the doctor had told them to do nothing which might cross her, but the two good women said to themselves: "Yet, if she wanted to throw herself out of the window, we should certainly not let her do it. And to go out in her present state is probably about as dangerous." They did not know what to do. The doctor did not come. Still less did they know what to think. Was Dora completely mad, or was this some marvellous and mysterious metamorphosis? No, she was not mad. Dora possessed something which has saved thousands of much-tried human beings from spiritual and moral shipwreck, and has reattached them to life again. She possessed that internal god whom the Greeks called _enthusiasm_, that divine transport which, lifting the soul above itself, excites to great resolutions and lofty actions. Eva was no more. Philip was gone, and little she cared to know where. She was free, mistress of her actions. She had no longer husband or child. Well! there was still left to her a third motive for living, Art. The mother and the wife had ceased to exist, but the artist was still alive. Gabrielle tried once more to dissuade Dora from going out, but without success; no argument could influence her. She consented, however, that Gabrielle should accompany her. She dressed herself without help. The mourning raiment which had been ordered she had not yet been able to have fitted, but she found in her wardrobe a black dress which served. A hat which Hobbs in a few minutes trimmed with crape completed her toilette. She did not appear to be in the least excited. She was calm, deliberate, sure of each of her words, sure of each of her movements. Gabrielle, who was under the influence of this powerful will, obeyed her sister's most trivial wishes, and appeared to be completely reassured about her. She begged her, however, for her own satisfaction, to let her feel her pulse and take her temperature. The pulse was normal, and the temperature did not indicate the least trace of fever. The case appeared to her to be a most exceptional one, almost phenomenal in fact, but she was reassured and much comforted. She no longer felt any anxiety, especially as the morning promised to be fine, and the open air could certainly do Dora nothing but good. "Well! where are we going?" said Gabrielle, whose curiosity was keenly aroused. "To St. John's Wood," replied Dora. "To St. John's Wood?"