“I am not unwell that I know of,” said Grace, a little sullenly.

“One reason I ask, I have another patient, who has been attacked somewhat in the same way.”

Grace colored, and fixed a searching eye on the doctor.  “Do I know the lady?”

“No.  For it happens to be a male patient.”

“Perhaps it is going about.”

“Possibly; this is the age of competition.  Still it is hard you can’t have a little malady of this kind all to yourself; don’t you think so?”

At this Grace laughed hysterically.

“Come, none of that before me,” said the doctor sternly.

She stopped directly, frightened.  The doctor smiled.

Mr. Carden peeped in from his study.  “When you have done with her, come and prescribe for me.  I am a little out of sorts too.”  With this, he retired.  “That means you are to go and tell him what is the matter with me,” said Grace bitterly.

“Is his curiosity unjustifiable?”

“Oh no.  Poor papa!” Then she asked him dryly if he knew what was the matter with her.

“I think I do.”

“Then cure me.”  This with haughty incredulity.

“I’ll try; and a man can but do his best.  I’ll tell you one thing:  if I can’t cure you, no doctor in the world can:  see how modest I am.  Now for papa.”

She let him go to the very door:  and then a meek little timid voice said, in a scarce audible murmur, “Doctor!”

Now when this meek murmur issued from a young lady who had, up to this period of the interview, been rather cold and cutting, the sagacious doctor smiled.  “My dear?” said he, in a very gentle voice.

“Doctor! about your other patient!”

“Well?”

“Is he as bad as I am?  For indeed, my dear friend, I feel—­my food has no taste—­life itself no savor.  I used to go singing, now I sit sighing.  Is he as bad as I am?”

“I’ll tell you the truth; his malady is as strong as yours; but he has the great advantage of being a man; and, again, of being a man of brains.  He is a worker, and an inventor; and now, instead of succumbing tamely to his disorder, he is working double tides, and inventing with all his might, in order to remove an obstacle between him and one he loves with all his manly soul.  A contest so noble and so perpetual sustains and fortifies the mind.  He is indomitable; only, at times, his heart of steel will soften, and then he has fits of deep dejection and depression, which I mourn to see; for his manly virtues, and his likeness to one I loved deeply in my youth, have made him dear to me.”

During this Grace turned her head away, and, ere the doctor ended, her tears were flowing freely; for to her, being a woman, this portrait of a male struggle with sorrow was far more touching than any description of feminine and unresisted grief could be:  and, when the doctor said he loved his patient, she stole her little hand into his in a way to melt Old Nick, if he is a male.  Ladies, forgive the unchivalrous doubt.