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Rh manner of hope was in her, that he would say—"she was able;" but he did not; and she continued, "there is no one to whom I can go, except an old servant of my poor father's; so, if—" there came, perhaps, a flush of pride to her cheek, or it might be she was ashamed to ask a favour—"if, sir, you could get me into, I should be most grateful."

"I wish I could," he answered, "with all my heart. We have hospitals enough; yet, I fear—indeed, I know—there is not one that would receive you, when aware of the exact nature of your complaint. You must have a warm, mild atmosphere; perfect quiet, and a particular diet; and that for some considerable time."

"My mother, sir," said Lucy, "died of consumption."

"Well, but you are not going to die," he replied, smiling; "only you must let your father's old servant take care of you, and you may soon get better."

Lucy shook her head, and her eyes overflowed with tears; the physician cheered her, after the usual fashion. "I am not afraid of death, sir," said the young woman; "indeed, I am not; but I fear, more than I ought, the passage which leads to it; the burden I must be to the poor faithful creature who nursed me from my birth. I thought there was an hospital for the cure of every disease; and this consumption is so general, so helpless, so tedious."

"The very thing,"—said the doctor, who, with all his kindness, was one of those who think "so and so," because "all the faculty" thought "so and so," for such a number of years;—"its being tedious is the very thing; it is quite a ."

"But, sir," answered the soldier's daughter, " have sometimes led to, when they have been , but not ."

The doctor pressed into her hand the latest fee he had received, and descended the stairs. "That is a very extraordinary girl, madam, in the nursery," he said to the lady, "something very superior about her; but she will get worse and worse; nothing for her but a more genial climate, constant care, perfect rest, careful diet: if she lives through the winter she must go in the spring. Lungs! chest! blisters will relieve her; and if we could produce the climate of Madeira here for a winter or so, she might revive; but, poor thing, in her situation—"

The lady shook her head, and repeated, "Ay; in her situation."

"It is really frightful," he continued, "the hundreds—thousands, I may say—who drop off in this dreadful disease; the flower of our maidens; the finest of our youths; no age, no sex, exempt from it. We have only casual practice to instruct us in it; we have no opportunity of watching and analyzing it, en masse, as we have with other complaints; it is turned out of our hospitals before we do what we even fancy might be done; it is indeed, as she said just now, &apos;forlorn&apos; and &apos;forsaken.' Why, I know not; I really wish some one would establish an hospital for the cure, or, at least, the investigation of