“Yes, sir,” she faintly replied, having a most imperfect notion of what she did say.

“What is it that you find to be the matter with you?”

“I—­think—­it is chiefly—­weakness,” she stammered.

Her face had grown as gray as the walls.  A dusky, livid sort of hue, not unlike William’s had worn the night of his death, and her voice sounded strangely hollow.  It, the voice, struck Mr. Carlyle and awoke his fears.

“You cannot—­you never can have caught William’s complaint, in your close attendance upon him?” he exclaimed, speaking in the impulse of the moment, as the idea flashed across him.  “I have heard of such things.”

“Caught it from him?” she rejoined, carried away also by impulse.  “It is more likely that he——­”

She stopped herself just in time. "Inherited it from me," had been the destined conclusion.  In her alarm, she went off volubly, something to the effect that “it was no wonder she was ill:  illness was natural to her family.”

“At any rate, you have become ill at East Lynne, in attendance on my children,” rejoined Mr. Carlyle, decisively, when her voice died away.  “You must therefore allow me to insist that you allow East Lynne to do what it can toward renovating you.  What is your objection to see a doctor?”

“A doctor could do me no good,” she faintly answered.

“Certainly not, so long as you will not consult one.”

“Indeed, sir, doctors could not cure me, nor, as I believe prolong my life.”

Mr. Carlyle paused.

“Are you believing yourself to be in danger?”

“Not in immediate danger, sir; only in so far as that I know I shall not live.”

“And yet you will not see a doctor.  Madame Vine, you must be aware that I could not permit such a thing to go on in my house.  Dangerous illness and no advice!”

She could not say to him, “My malady is on the mind; it is a breaking heart, and therefore no doctor of physic could serve me.”  That would never do.  She had sat with her hand across her face, between her spectacles and her wrapped-up chin.  Had Mr. Carlyle possessed the eyes of Argus, backed by Sam Weller’s patent magnifying microscopes of double hextra power, he could not have made anything of her features in the broad light of day.  But she did not feel so sure of it.  There was always an undefined terror of discovery when in his presence, and she wished the interview at an end.

“I will see Mr. Wainwright, if it will be any satisfaction to you, sir.”

“Madame Vine, I have intruded upon you here to say that you must see him, and, should he deem it necessary, Dr. Martin also.”

“Oh, sir,” she rejoined with a curious smile, “Mr. Wainwright will be quite sufficient.  There will be no need of another.  I will write a note to him to-morrow.”

“Spare yourself the trouble.  I am going into West Lynne, and will send him up.  You will permit me to urge that you spare no pains or care, that you suffer my servants to spare no pains or care, to re-establish your health.  Mrs. Carlyle tells me that the question of your leaving remains in abeyance until her return.”