Miss
Dalrymple had spoken in high terms of Winnie's intelligence and
culture, little thinking how she was making my mother feel more
acutely than ever her own wrongdoing. Knowing that I was very fond of
music, my mother persuaded me to take her on several occasions to the
opera and the theatre. She with more difficulty persuaded me to
consult a medical man upon the subject of my insomnia; and at last I
agreed, though very reluctantly, to consult Dr. Mivart, late of
Raxton, who was now living in London. Mivart attributed my ailment
(as I, of course, knew he would) to hypochondria, and I saw that he
was fully aware of the cause. I therefore opened my mind to him upon
the subject. I told him everything in connection with Winifred in
Wales.
He pondered the subject carefully and then said:
'What you need is to escape from these terrible oscillations between
hope and despair. Therefore I think it best to tell you frankly that
Miss Wynne is certainly dead. Even suppose that she did not fall down
a precipice in Wales, she is, I repeat, certainly dead.
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