All this she reported to Cyprian, and all this was got out of him by Mr.William Murray Bradshaw.
That gentleman was far from being pleased with the look of things as they were represented.

What if the Doctor, who was after all in the prime of life and younger-looking than some who were born half a dozen years after him, should get a hold on this young woman,--girl now, if you will, but in a very few years certain to come within possible, nay, not very improbable, matrimonial range of him?
That would be pleasant, wouldn't it?
It had happened sometimes, as he knew, that these magnetizing tricks had led to infatuation on the part of the subjects of the wonderful influence.

So he concluded to be ill and consult the younger Dr.Hurlbut, and incidentally find out how the land lay.
The next question was, what to be ill with.

Some not ungentlemanly malady, not hereditary, not incurable, not requiring any obvious change in habits of life.

Dyspepsia would answer the purpose well enough: so Mr.Murray Bradshaw picked up a medical book and read ten minutes or more for that complaint.