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Rh that he had been struck anywhere, and, according to Sinfire, he had assured her that he was not touched. "But just as he was saying it," she added, "he dropped down as if he were shot, and has been this way ever since."

I put my finger on his pulse. That told the whole story. I wonder I had never suspected it before, especially as heart-disease is my specialty in pathology. At any rate, there is no doubt that John has it; and he must have had it for some time. He is such a robust man that one would never suspect him. He may live for many years; it might even be possible to cure him; but when he does die the chances are that he will die of a stroke of the heart.

Naturally, I said nothing of my discovery to Sinfire: it is a serious matter, and may mean a great deal. I remember that when John was a boy he once climbed to the roof of the barn and tried to stand on his head on the ridge-pole: some fool or other had dared him to do it. He lost his balance, rolled down the roof, and fell,—not on the ground, luckily, but on a heap of straw that was about to be used as bedding for the horses. He escaped with a few insignificant bruises; but the doctor who attended him said he had strained his heart. Probably it has been weak ever since; and the active exercise he has been in the habit of taking can have done it no good. However, what is done can't be mended: all we can hope for is to guard against mischief in the future. I wish John were less headstrong and more phlegmatic.

He began to come to before long, and then I made him sip a dozen teaspoonfuls of brandy, which I administered one after the other. The sipping, more than the brandy, stimulated his circulation, and he was able to get up and walk. He had no idea what had been the matter with him,—thought Sibyl must have kicked him. But it was of Sinfire that his head was full; and I suppose he must have suffered a strong agony of emotion during that minute and a half that she was in deadly peril and he was trying to save her. If there had been any doubt about his feeling for her before, there can be none now. And as for her, if she is a woman, and not a witch (as I sometimes fancy), she cannot resist a handsome young millionaire whose first love she is, and who has saved her life. For, beyond peradventure, she would have been in kingdom come but for John.

"Much obliged, old fellow; don't need any help," said the heir of Cedarcliffe to his younger brother; and I took the hint, like the dutiful youngster I am, and returned with my brandy-flask to my study, while John and Sinfire sauntered slowly across the lawn together. I expected it would have been all settled by the time they reached the house; but at breakfast, half an hour later, John's face proclaimed, more loudly