Three days before the date at which Rothsay and I were to pay our
visit to Lord Lepel, I found myself compelled to undergo one of
the minor miseries of human life. In other words I became one of
the guests at a large dinner-party. It was a rainy day in
October. My position at the table placed me between a window that
was open and a door that was hardly ever shut. I went to bed
shivering; and woke the next morning with a headache and a
difficulty in breathing. On consulting the doctor, I found that I
was suffering from an attack of bronchitis. There was no reason
to be alarmed. If I remained indoors, and submitted to the
necessary treatment, I might hope to keep my engagement with my
uncle in ten days or a fortnight.

There was no alternative but to submit. I accordingly arranged
with Rothsay that he should present himself at Lord Lepel's house
(taking the picture with him), on the date appointed for our
visit, and that I should follow as soon as I was well enough to
travel.

On the day when he was to leave London, my friend kindly came to
keep me company for a while. He was followed into my room by Mrs.
Mozeen, with a bottle of medicine in her hand. This worthy
creature, finding that the doctor's directions occasionally
escaped my memory, devoted herself to the duty of administering
the remedies at the prescribed intervals of time. When she left
the room, having performed her duties as usual, I saw Rothsay's
eyes follow her to the door with an expression of sardonic
curiosity. He put a strange question to me as soon as we were
alone.