To my more selfish grief, anxiety for Lilian was now added. I had seen
many more patients die from being mistreated for consumption than from
consumption itself. And Dr. Jones was a mercenary, cunning, needy man,
with much crafty knowledge of human foibles, but very little skill in the
treatment of human maladies. My fears were soon confirmed. A few days
after I heard from Miss Brabazon that Miss Ashleigh was seriously ill,
kept her room. Mrs. Ashleigh made this excuse for not immediately
returning the visits which the Hill had showered upon her. Miss Brabazon
had seen Dr. Jones, who had shaken his head, said it was a serious case;
but that time and care (his time and his care!) might effect wonders.

How stealthily at the dead of the night I would climb the Hill and look
towards the windows of the old sombre house,--one window, in which a light
burned dim and mournful, the light of a sick-room,--of hers!

At length Mrs. Poyntz came back, and I entered her house, having fully
resolved beforehand on the line of policy to be adopted towards the
potentate whom I hoped to secure as an ally. It was clear that neither
disguise nor half-confidence would baffle the penetration of so keen an
intellect, nor propitiate the good will of so imperious and resolute a
temper. Perfect frankness here was the wisest prudence; and after all, it
was most agreeable to my own nature, and most worthy of my own honour.

Luckily, I found Mrs. Poyntz alone, and taking in both mine the hand
she somewhat coldly extended to me, I said, with the earnestness of
suppressed emotion,--

"You observed when I last saw you, that I had not yet asked you to be
my friend. I ask it now. Listen to me with all the indulgence you can