Mrs. Halliburton's Troubles. Ellen Wood

too much with my day's work."

      A thought crossed Jane's mind—if the fiat were unfavourable what would become of his day's work then—all his days? But she did not utter it.

      "Oh, papa," cried Janey at breakfast, "was it not a beautiful party! Did you ever enjoy yourself so much before?"

      "I don't suppose you ever did, Janey," he replied, in kindly tones.

      "No, that I never did. Alice Harvey's birthday comes in summer, and she says she knows her mamma will let her give just such another! Mamma!"—turning to Mrs. Halliburton.

      "Well, Jane?"

      "Shall you let me have a new frock for it? You know I tore mine last night."

      "All in good time, Janey. We don't know where we may all be then."

      No, they did not. A foreshadowing of it was already upon the spirit of Mrs. Halliburton. Not upon the children: they were spared it as yet.

      "Do not be surprised if you see me waiting for you when you come out of Dr. Arnold's," said Jane to her husband, in low tones, as he was going out.

      "But, Jane, why? Indeed, I think it would be foolish of you to come. My dear, I never knew you like this before."

      Perhaps not. But when, before, had there been cause for this apprehension?

      Jane watched him depart. Calm as she contrived to remain outwardly, she was in a terribly restless, nervous state; little accustomed as she was so to give way. A sick feeling was within her, a miserable sensation of suspense; and she could scarcely battle with it. You may have felt the same, in the dread approach of some great calamity. The reading over, Janey got her books about, as usual. Mrs. Halliburton took charge of her education in every branch, excepting music: for that she had a master. She would not send Jane to school. The child sat down to her books, and was surprised at seeing her mother come into the room with her things on.

      "Mamma! Are you going out?"

      "For a little time, Jane."

      "Oh, let me go! Let me go too!"

      "Not this morning, dear. You will have plenty of work—preparing the lessons that you could not prepare last night."

      "So I shall," said Janey. "I thought perhaps you meant to excuse them, mamma."

      It was almost impossible for Jane to remain in the house, in her present state of agitation. She knew that it did appear absurdly foolish to go after her husband; but, walk somewhere she must: how could she turn a different way from that which he had taken? It was some distance to Finsbury; half an hour's walk at least. Should she go, or should she not, she asked herself as she went out of the house. She began to think that she might have remained at home had she exercised self-control. She had a great mind to turn back, and was slackening her pace, when she caught sight of Mr. Allen at his surgery window.

      An impulse came over her that she would go in and ask his opinion of her husband. She opened the door and entered. The surgeon was making up some pills.

      "You are out early, Mrs. Halliburton!"

      "Yes," she replied. "Mr. Halliburton has gone to Finsbury Square to see Dr. Arnold, and I——Do you think him very ill?" she abruptly broke off.

      "I do not, myself. Carrington——Did you know he had been to Dr. Carrington?" asked Mr. Allen, almost fearing he might be betraying secrets.

      "I know all about it. I know what the doctor said. Do you think Dr. Carrington was mistaken?"

      "In a measure. There's no doubt the lungs are affected, but I believe not to the grave extent assumed by Dr. Carrington."

      "He assumed, then, that they were affected to a grave extent?" she hastily repeated, her heart beating faster.

      "I thought you said you knew all about it, Mrs. Halliburton?"

      "So I do. He may possibly not have told me the very worst said by Dr. Carrington; but he told me quite sufficient. Mr. Allen, you tell me—do you think that there is a chance of his recovery?"

      "Most certainly I do," warmly replied the surgeon. "Every chance, Mrs. Halliburton. I see no reason whatever why he should not keep as well as he is now, and live for years, provided he takes care of himself. It appears that Dr. Carrington very strongly urged his removing into the country; he went so far as to say that it was his only chance for life—and in that I think he went too far again. But the country would undoubtedly do for him what London will not."

      "You think that he ought to remove to the country?" she inquired, showing no sign of the terror those incautious words brought her—"his only chance for life."

      "I do. If it be possible for him to manage his affairs so as to get away, I should say let him do so by all means."

      "It must be done, you know, Mr. Allen, if it is essential."

      "In my judgment it should be done. Many and many a time I have said to him myself, 'It's a pity but that you could be out of this heavy London!' Fogs affect him, and smoke affects him—the air altogether affects him: and I only wonder it has not told upon him before. As Dr. Carrington observed to him, there are some constitutions which somehow will not thrive here."

      Mrs. Halliburton rose with a sigh. "I am glad you do not think so very seriously of him," she breathed.

      "I do not think seriously of him at all," was the surgeon's answer. "I confess that he is not strong, and that he must have care. The pure air of the country, and relaxation from some of his most pressing work, may do wonders for him. If I might advise, I should say, Let no pecuniary considerations keep him here. And that is very disinterested advice, Mrs. Halliburton," concluded the doctor, laughing, "for, in losing you, I should lose both friends and patients."

      Jane went out. Those ominous words were still ringing in her ears—"his only chance for life."

      Forcing herself to self-control, she did not go to meet Mr. Halliburton. She returned home and took off her things, and gave what attention she could to Jane's lessons. But none can tell the suspense that was agitating her: the ever-restless glances she cast to the window, to see him pass. By-and-by she went and stood there.

      At last she saw him coming along in the distance. She would have liked to fly to meet him—to say, What is the news? but she did not. More patience, and then, when he came in at the front door, she left the room she was in, and went with him into the drawing-room, her face white as death.

      He saw how agitated she was, strive as she would for calmness. He stood looking at her with a smile.

      "Well, Jane, it is not so very formidable, after all."

      Her face grew hot, and her heart bounded on. "What does Dr. Arnold say? You know, Edgar, you promised me the truth without disguise."

      "You shall have it, Jane. Dr. Arnold's opinion of me is not unfavourable. That the lungs are to a certain extent affected, is indisputable, and he thinks they have been so for some time. But he sees nothing to indicate present danger to life. He believes that I may grow into an old man yet."

      Jane breathed freely. A word of earnest thanks went up from her heart.

      "With proper diet—he has given me certain rules for living—and pure air and sunshine, he considers that I have really little to fear. I told you, Jane, those insurance doctors make the worst of things."

      "Dr. Arnold, then, recommends the country?" observed Jane, paying no attention to the last remark.

      "Very strongly. Almost as strongly as Dr. Carrington."

      Jane lifted her eyes to her husband's face. "Dr. Carrington said, you know, that it was your only chance of life."

      "Not quite as bad as that, Jane," he returned, never supposing but he must himself have let the remark slip, and wondering how he came to do so. "What Dr. Carrington said was, that it was London versus life."

      "It is the same thing, Edgar. And now, what is to be done? Of course we have no alternative;