with the greatest care and attention, but who knew little or nothing of the outside world.
Poor little Gwen! I can often see her big blue eyes and golden hair even now; however, that's by the way. Suffice it to say that before long there was a definite understanding between us, but which we kept strictly to ourselves, knowing that we had no immediate prospects of marriage. Her father, Dr. Eckington, was a peculiar man, who had evidently lived a strenuous life, and at the latter end of it was certainly not overburdened with wealth. The practitioner among the poorer classes has generally a hard struggle to pay his way, and he was no exception to the rule; he did not possess the faculty of plausible lying which is so necessary to success in the general practitioner. He suffered with fainting attacks which I regarded as showing heart trouble, but up to a certain evening he had never mentioned his ailments to me; he treated himself. It was after I had been with him for about eight months, and two months after my understanding with Gwen, that he sent for me one evening about eleven o'clock.
"Sit down, Mr. d'Escombe," he said, as he handed me a cigar-case. "Excuse my getting up, but I want to have a chat with you."
