"But I tell you, I must attend to some important business out of town to-day!" Percy answered, stubbornly. "It is the worry and anxiety over the matter which has caused my illness, mainly. And I want you to give me a tonic, or a stimulant, or something that will carry me through the day. Then, if to-morrow I find myself no better, I will promise to go to bed and follow your advice. For I want to get in condition to go abroad very soon."
Finding his patient incorrigible, Dr. Sydney grimly prepared some medicine for him to take during the forenoon, and left him with a last injunction to be very careful of himself if he desired to escape a long siege of illness.
"But he can't escape it. It is coming, unless I greatly mistake symptoms!" he muttered, as he went out.
Percy remained in his room until the afternoon, then he set forth upon a visit to Centerville; and in the excitement of the hour, and under the stimulating effect of Dr. Sydney's tonic, he felt himself wonderfully improved as he walked up the village street.
He went directly to Helena. He had resolved to tell her the whole story, and abide by her decision of what was right for him to do.
"She has no actual knowledge of the world," he said to himself; "but she is endowed with divine wisdom, broad sympathies, and a natural understanding of the human heart. She is my best adviser."
She held out her hand to him, when she came into the room, saying: "This is an unexpected pleasure, Mr. Durand."
But he did not take the proffered hand. He only answered: "Wait. I came here to make a confession to you, and to ask your advice. Perhaps, after you have heard my story, you will not want to clasp my hand."
She looked up at him, startled, wondering.
"Surely you have not committed murder!" she said. "You do not resemble an assassin, Mr. Durand."