The Strand Magazine: Volume VII, Issue 37. January, 1894. | Page 4

Sir Henry; "and now perhaps you would like to be shown to your room."
My bedroom was in a modern wing of the house, and looked as cheerful and as unghostlike as it was possible for a room to be. I did not rejoin my host and hostess until dinner-time. We had a sociable little meal, at which nothing of any importance occurred, and shortly after the servants withdrew, Lady Studley left Sir Henry and me to ourselves. She gave me another warning glance as she left the room. I had already quite made up my mind, however, to tell Sir Henry the motive of my visit.
The moment the door closed behind his wife, he started up and asked me if I would mind coming with him into his library.
"The fact is." he said, "I am particularly glad you have come down. I want to have a talk with you about my wife. She is extremely unwell."
I signified my willingness to listen to anything Sir Henry might say, and in a few minutes we found ourselves comfortably established in a splendid old room, completely clothed with books from ceiling to floor.
"These are my treasures," said the baronet, waving his hand in the direction of an old bookcase, which contained, I saw at a glance, some very rare and precious first editions.
"These are my friends, the companions of my hours of solitude. Now sit down, Dr. Halifax; make yourself at home. You have come here as a guest, but I have heard of you before, and am inclined to confide in you. I must frankly say that I hate your profession as a rule. I don't believe in the omniscience of medical men, but moments come in the lives of all men when it is necessary to unburden the mind to another. May I give you my confidence?"
"One moment first," I said. "I can't deceive you, Sir Henry. I have come here, not in the capacity of a guest, but as your wife's medical man. She has been anxious about you, and she begged of me to come and stay here for a few days in order to render you any medical assistance within my power. I only knew, on my way here to-day, that she had not acquainted you with the nature of my visit."
While I was speaking, Sir Henry's face became extremely watchful, eager, and tense.
"This is remarkable," he said. "So Lucilla is anxious about me? I was not aware that I ever gave her the least clue to the fact that I am not--in perfect health. This is very strange--it troubles me."
He looked agitated. He placed one long, thin hand on the little table which stood near, and pouring out a glass of wine, drank it off. I noticed as he did so the nervous trembling of his hand. I glanced at his face, and saw that it was thin to emaciation.
"Well," he said, "I am obliged to you for being perfectly frank with me. My wife scarcely did well to conceal the object of your visit. But now that you have come, I shall make use of you both for myself and for her."
"Then you are not well?" I asked.
"Well!" he answered, with almost a shout. "Good God, no! I think that I am going mad. I know--I know that unless relief soon comes I shall die or become a raving maniac."
"No, nothing of the kind," I answered, soothingly; "you probably want change. This is a fine old house, but dull, no doubt, in winter. Why don't you go away?--to the Riviera, or some other place where there is plenty of sunshine? Why do you stay here? The air of this place is too damp to be good for either you or your wife."
Sir Henry sat silent for a moment, then he said, in a terse voice:--
"Perhaps you will advise me what to do after you know the nature of the malady which afflicts me. First of all, however, I wish to speak of my wife."
"I am ready to listen," I replied.
"You see," he continued, "that she is very delicate?"
"Yes," I replied; "to be frank with you, I should say that Lady Studley was consumptive."
He started when I said this, and pressed his lips firmly together. After a moment he spoke.
"You are right," he replied. "I had her examined by a medical man--Sir Joseph Dunbar--when I was last in London; he said her lungs were considerably affected, and that, in short, she was far from well."
"Did he not order you to winter abroad?"
"He did, but Lady Studley opposed the idea so strenuously that I was obliged to yield to her entreaties. Consumption does not seem to take quite the ordinary form with her. She is restless, she longs for cool air, she goes out on quite cold days,