After a visit from her he wrote again:—­

’Dr. Chestman has seen me.  He said that the ailment was some sort of rheumatism, and I am now undergoing proper treatment for its cure.  My leg and foot have been placed in hot bran, liniments have been applied, and also severe friction with a pad.  He says I shall be as right as ever in a very short time.  Directly I am I shall run up by the train to see you.  Don’t trouble to come to me if Miss Aldclyffe grumbles again about your being away, for I am going on capitally. . . .  You shall hear again at the end of the week.’

At the time mentioned came the following:—­

’I am sorry to tell you, because I know it will be so disheartening after my last letter, that I am not so well as I was then, and that there has been a sort of hitch in the proceedings.  After I had been treated for rheumatism a few days longer (in which treatment they pricked the place with a long needle several times,) I saw that Dr. Chestman was in doubt about something, and I requested that he would call in a brother professional man to see me as well.  They consulted together and then told me that rheumatism was not the disease after all, but erysipelas.  They then began treating it differently, as became a different matter.  Blisters, flour, and starch, seem to be the order of the day now—­medicine, of course, besides.

’Mr. Gradfield has been in to inquire about me.  He says he has been obliged to get a designer in my place, which grieves me very much, though, of course, it could not be avoided.’

A month passed away; throughout this period, Cytherea visited him as often as the limited time at her command would allow, and wore as cheerful a countenance as the womanly determination to do nothing which might depress him could enable her to wear.  Another letter from him then told her these additional facts:—­

’The doctors find they are again on the wrong tack.  They cannot make out what the disease is.  O Cytherea! how I wish they knew!  This suspense is wearing me out.  Could not Miss Aldclyffe spare you for a day?  Do come to me.  We will talk about the best course then.  I am sorry to complain, but I am worn out.’

Cytherea went to Miss Aldclyffe, and told her of the melancholy turn her brother’s illness had taken.  Miss Aldclyffe at once said that Cytherea might go, and offered to do anything to assist her which lay in her power.  Cytherea’s eyes beamed gratitude as she turned to leave the room, and hasten to the station.

‘O, Cytherea,’ said Miss Aldclyffe, calling her back; ’just one word.  Has Mr. Manston spoken to you lately?’

‘Yes,’ said Cytherea, blushing timorously.

‘He proposed?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you refused him?’

‘Yes.’