than they were--the first for your gentle sex, the second for our rough
one. Both, too, lie in wait for their victims at the entrance in middle
life. I have a very fine case of paralysis now; a man built up by nature
to live to a hundred--never saw such a splendid formation--such bone and
such muscle. I would have given Van Amburgh the two best of his lions,
and my man would have done for all three in five minutes. All the worse
for him, my dear lady--all the worse for him. His strength leads him on
to abuse the main fountains of life, and out jumps avenging Paralysis and
fells him to earth with a blow. 'Tis your Hercules that Paralysis loves;
she despises the weak invalid, who prudently shims all excess. And so,
my dear lady, that assassin called Aneurism lies in wait for the hearts
that abuse their own force of emotion; sparing hearts that, less vital,
are thrifty in waste and supply. But you are not listening to one! And
yet my patient may not be quite unknown to your ladyship; for in
happening to mention the other day, to the lady who attends to and nurses
him, that I could not call this morning, as I had a visit to pay to Lady
Montfort at Twickenham, she became very anxious about you, and wrote this
note, which she begged me to give you. She seems very much attached to
my patient--not his wife nor his sister. She interests me;--capital
nurse-cleverish woman too. Oh! here is the note."

Caroline, who had given but little heed to this recital, listlessly
received the note--scarcely looked at the address--and was about to put
it aside, when the good doctor, who was intent upon rousing her by any
means, said: "No, my dear lady, I promised that I would see you read the
note; besides, I am the most curious of men, and dying to know a little
more who and what is the writer."

Caroline broke the seal and read as follows: "If Lady Montfort remembers
Arabella Fossett, and will call at Clare Cottage, Vale of Health,