In writing to my address, he declared himself to be rapidly advancing towards recovery.

Under the new treatment, the fits succeeded each other at longer and longer intervals, and endured a shorter and shorter time.
Here then was plainly a depressing report sent to Lucilla, and an encouraging report sent to me.
What did it mean?
Oscar's next letter to me answered the question.
"I told you in my last" (he wrote), "that the discoloration of my skin had begun.

The complexion which you were once so good as to admire, has disappeared for ever.

I am now of a livid ashen color--so like death, that I sometimes startle myself when I look in the glass.

In about six weeks more, as the doctor calculates, this will deepen to a blackish blue; and then, 'the saturation' (as he calls it) will be complete.
"So far from feeling any useless regrets at having taken the medicine which is producing these ugly effects, I am more grateful to my Nitrate of Silver than words can say.