“Oh, you are not going into a consumption, Elsie, I hope and believe,” said Jane, as cheerfully as she could.  “Your apprehension of such a thing shows that you are in no danger.  You will see Dr. Phillips tomorrow morning, and get something to set you to rights.  I am glad you are joining us here, for the sake of his advice.  I like him so very much, and I think him clever—­perhaps not naturally so acute as Dr. Vivian, but he has had a large practice so long, and so little wedded to routine, and so willing to accept of any new light that can be thrown on medicine, that his greater experience more than counterbalances his son’s greater talent.  And he is cheerful, too; the sound of his voice, and even of his step, is like a cordial to the sick and the depressed, I think.  I know it does me a great deal of good, and it must benefit you.”

“You are very happy here; honoured, and useful, and well paid,” said Elsie.

“Oh! yes, dear; I have a great deal to be thankful for, and in time we will be able to be together always.  In the meantime your holiday must be enjoyed to the utmost.”

So the sisters talked of their plans for the future, and of the routine of their past life, as cheerfully as they could, and tried to banish Mr. Brandon from their thoughts.  Elsie was asleep first, and then Jane anxiously lay awake, weighing the probabilities about her health and her recovery, and also thinking with approval, but certainly with regret, of Elsie’s conscientious refusal of so excellent an offer as she had that day received.  Her own opinion of Mr. Brandon had risen since she had known him better, and she believed that Elsie would have suited him extremely well.  She only hoped that he would not accept her sister’s answer as final, at least, if Dr. Phillips pronounced favourably on the subject of her health.

Chapter V.

Elsie Accepts Of A New Situation

When Dr. Phillips had asked Elsie a great number of questions on all sorts of subjects, that seemed but remotely connected with the cough that she was so alarmed about—­had sounded her chest, and gone through the several forms of examination——­

“Now,” said she, “Doctor, tell me the truth; I am not at all afraid to hear it.  I have no dread of death; indeed, I rather desire it than otherwise.”

“I am sorry to hear it, my dear girl; for I do not see any chance of it.  There is nothing organic the matter with you—­nothing whatever—­only a nervous affection that a little care will overcome.  You have been overworked and underfed.  You have been out of doors only in the early morning and the late evening, and have scarcely seen the sun for months.  You have had a great deal on your spirits, and been exceedingly dull.  You have missed your excellent sister, and I do not wonder at it.  It would have been a miracle if you could have kept your health this unkindly spring, with all these drawbacks.  But you have nothing whatever alarming in your case.”