by one from her lips, in a lost, vacant tone, as if she was talking in her sleep.  Whether what she said referred to past or future I cannot tell you.  She spoke of persons in a foreign country—­perfect strangers to my sister and to me.  After a little interval, she suddenly became silent.  A momentary color appeared in her face, and left it again.  Her eyes closed—­her feet failed her—­and she sank insensible into our arms.”

“Sank insensible into your arms,” repeated the captain, absorbing his new information.  “Most extraordinary!  And—­in this state of health—­she goes out to parties, and dances.  More extraordinary still!”

“You are entirely mistaken,” said Mrs. Crayford.  “She is only here to-night to please me; and she is only dancing to please my husband.  As a rule, she shuns all society.  The doctor recommends change and amusement for her.  She won’t listen to him.  Except on rare occasions like this, she persists in remaining at home.”

Captain Helding brightened at the allusion to the doctor.  Something practical might be got out of the doctor.  Scientific man.  Sure to see this very obscure subject under a new light.  “How does it strike the doctor now?” said the captain.  “Viewed simply as a Case, ma’am, how does it strike the doctor?”

“He will give no positive opinion,” Mrs. Crayford answered.  “He told me that such cases as Clara’s were by no means unfamiliar to medical practice.  ‘We know,’ he told me, ’that certain disordered conditions of the brain and the nervous system produce results quite as extraordinary as any that you have described—­and there our knowledge ends.  Neither my science nor any man’s science can clear up the mystery in this case.  It is an especially difficult case to deal with, because Miss Burnham’s early associations dispose her to attach a superstitious importance to the malady—­the hysterical malady as some doctors would call it—­from which she suffers.  I can give you instructions for preserving her general health; and I can recommend you to try some change in her life—­provided you first relieve her mind of any secret anxieties that may possibly be preying on it.’”

The captain smiled self-approvingly.  The doctor had justified his anticipations.  The doctor had suggested a practical solution of the difficulty.

“Ay! ay!  At last we have hit the nail on the head!  Secret anxieties.  Yes! yes!  Plain enough now.  A disappointment in love—­eh, Mrs. Crayford?”

“I don’t know, Captain Helding; I am quite in the dark.  Clara’s confidence in me—­in other matters unbounded—­is, in this matter of her (supposed) anxieties, a confidence still withheld.  In all else we are like sisters.  I sometimes fear there may indeed be some trouble preying secretly on her mind.  I sometimes feel a little hurt at her incomprehensible silence.”

Captain Helding was ready with his own practical remedy for this difficulty.

“Encouragement is all she wants, ma’am.  Take my word for it, this matter rests entirely with you.  It’s all in a nutshell.  Encourage her to confide in you—­and she will confide.”