“Nothing, indeed, doctor; but, doctor, I wish to speak to you on another subject.  You have been attending Miss Goodwin during her very strange and severe illness.  You have visited her, too, at Ballyspellan.”

“I have, madam.  She went there by my directions.”

“How long is it since you have seen her?”

“I saw her three days ago.”

“And how was she?”

“I am afraid beyond hope, madam.  She is certainly not better, and I can scarcely say she is worse, because worse she cannot be.  The complaint is on her mind; and in that case we all know how difficult it is for a physician to minister to a mind diseased.”

“You think, then, she is past recovery?”

“Indeed, madam, I am certain of it, and I deeply regret it, not only for her own sake, but for that of her heart-broken parents.”

“My dear doctor—­O, by the way, here is your fee; do not be surprised at its amount, for, although your fees have been regularly paid—­”

“And liberally, madam.”

“Well, in consequence of the favorable and gratifying report which you have this day made, you must pardon an affectionate mother for the compensation which she now offers you.  It is far beneath the value of your skill, your anxiety for my son’s recovery, and the punctuality of your attendance.”

“What! fifty pounds, madam!  I cannot accept it,” said he, exhibiting it in his hand as he spoke.

“O, but you must, my dear doctor; nor shall the liberality of the mother rest here.  Come, doctor, no remonstrance; put it in your pocket, and now hear me.  You say Miss Goodwin is past all hope.  Would you have any objection to write me a short note stating that fact?”

“How could I, madam?” replied the good-natured, easy man, who, of course, could never dream of her design in asking him the question.  Still, it seemed singular and unusual, and quite out of the range of his experience.  This consideration startled him into reflection, and something like a curiosity to ascertain why she, who, he felt aware, was of late at bitter feud with Miss Goodwin and her family—­the cause of which was well known throughout the country—­should wish to obtain such a document from him.

“Pardon me, madam; pray, may I inquire for what purpose you ask me to furnish such a document?”

“Why, the truth is, doctor, that there are secrets in all families, and, although this is not, strictly speaking, a secret, yet it is a thing that I should not wish to be mentioned out of doors.”

“Madam, you cannot for a moment do me such injustice as to imagine that I am capable of violating professional confidence.  I consider the confidence you now repose in me, in the capacity of your family physician, as coming under that head.”

“You will have no objection, then, to write the note I ask of you?”

“Certainly not, madam.”

“But there is Dr. Lendrum, who joined you in consultation in my son’s case, as well I believe, as in Miss Goodwin’s.  Do you think you could get him to write a note to me in accordance with yours?  Speak to him, and tell him that I don’t think he has been sufficiently remunerated for his trouble in the consultations you have had with him here.”