feverish eyes, and questioned the woman who stood beside the girl. She was the mother of Therese, and the fellow who had summoned him was her brother and the girl's uncle. Therese had been ill for a week, and had sometimes been out of her mind. That evening she had asked them to send for Rondelet, and had written the few words which her uncle had given him. Therese seemed conscious of his presence, but since calling his name had given him no sign of recognition. Rondelet, whose knowledge of drugs was not confined to those included in the orthodox materia medica, drew from his breast a small phial; and pouring a few drops into a glass of water, held it to the girl's lips. She drank the potion eagerly; and its effects were soon to be traced in her quieter breathing, the relaxing of her hands, and the failing of the fever-flush from her face. The mother, with that fondness for all medicines characteristic of her race, asked the name of the potion.
"It is one that you cannot buy," said Philip. "I learned to prepare it from a wise man of the East, thousands of miles from here."
The room was large and high, and was furnished with some taste. The appointments of the dressing-table, the fineness of the bed-linen, together with some rare ornaments, were strangely out of keeping with the appearance of
