The speckled skin under the toad’s mouth mysteriously wrinkled itself, then slowly expanded again, as if he had swallowed the words just addressed to him.  Magdalen started back in disgust from the first perceptible movement in the creature’s body, trifling as it was, and returned to her chair.  She had not seated herself again a moment too soon.  The door opened noiselessly, and Mrs. Lecount appeared once more.

“Mr. Vanstone will see you,” she said, “if you will kindly wait a few minutes.  He will ring the parlor bell when his present occupation is at an end, and he is ready to receive you.  Be careful, ma’am, not to depress his spirits, nor to agitate him in any way.  His heart has been a cause of serious anxiety to those about him, from his earliest years.  There is no positive disease; there is only a chronic feebleness—­a fatty degeneration—­a want of vital power in the organ itself.  His heart will go on well enough if you don’t give his heart too much to do—­that is the advice of all the medical men who have seen him.  You will not forget it, and you will keep a guard over your conversation accordingly.  Talking of medical men, have you ever tried the Golden Ointment for that sad affliction in your eyes?  It has been described to me as an excellent remedy.”

“It has not succeeded in my case,” replied Magdalen, sharply.  “Before I see Mr. Noel Vanstone,” she continued, “may I inquire—­”

“I beg your pardon,” interposed Mrs. Lecount.  “Does your question refer in any way to those two poor girls?”

“It refers to the Misses Vanstone.”

“Then I can’t enter into it.  Excuse me, I really can’t discuss these poor girls (I am so glad to hear you call them the Misses Vanstone!) except in my master’s presence, and by my master’s express permission.  Let us talk of something else while we are waiting here.  Will you notice my glass Tank?  I have every reason to believe that it is a perfect novelty in England.”

“I looked at the tank while you were out of the room,” said Magdalen.

“Did you?  You take no interest in the subject, I dare say?  Quite natural.  I took no interest either until I was married.  My dear husband—­dead many years since—­formed my tastes and elevated me to himself.  You have heard of the late Professor Lecomte, the eminent Swiss naturalist?  I am his widow.  The English circle at Zurich (where I lived in my late master’s service) Anglicized my name to Lecount.  Your generous country people will have nothing foreign about them—­not even a name, if they can help it.  But I was speaking of my husband—­my dear husband, who permitted me to assist him in his pursuits.  I have had only one interest since his death—­an interest in science.  Eminent in many things, the professor was great at reptiles.  He left me his Subjects and his Tank.  I had no other legacy.  There is the Tank.  All the Subjects died but this quiet little fellow—­this nice little toad.