"Guy, there is a messenger waiting at the door to see you. Some

patient requires prompt attendance." Mrs. Chilton stood near the

window, and the moonlight flashed over her handsome face. Her

brother frowned and motioned her away, but, smiling quietly, she put

her beautifully molded hand on his shoulder, and said: "I am sorry I disturbed your meditations, but if you will practice--

"

"Who sent for me?"

"I really don't know."

"Will you be good enough to inquire?"

"Certainly." She glided gracefully from the room.

The whip-poor-will flew from his marble perch, and, as the mournful

tones died away, the master sighed, and returned to the bedside of

his charge. He renewed the ice on her brow, and soon after his

sister re-entered.

"Mr. Vincent is very sick, and you are wanted immediately."

"Very well." He crossed the room and rang the bell.

"Guy, are you sure that girl has not scarlet fever?"

"May, I have answered that question at least twice a day for nearly

a week."

"But you should sympathize with a mother's anxiety. I dread to

expose Pauline to danger."

"Then let her remain where she is."

"But I prefer having her come home, if I could feel assured that

girl has only brain fever."

"Then, once for all, there is no scarlet fever in the house."

He took a vial from his pocket, and poured a portion of its contents

into the glass, which he placed on a stand by Beulah's bed; then,

turning to Harriet, who had obeyed his summons, he directed her to

administer the medicine hourly.

"Guy, you may give your directions to me, for I shall stay with the

child to-night." As she spoke, she seated herself at the foot of the

bed.

"Harriet, hand me the candle in the hall." She did so; and, as her

master took it from her hand, he said abruptly: "Tell Hal to bring my buggy round, and then you may go to bed. I

will ring if you are wanted." He waited until she was out of

hearing, and, walking up to his sister, held the candle so that the

light fell full upon her face.

"May, can I trust you?"

"Brother, you are cruelly unjust." She covered her face with her

lace handkerchief.

"Am I, indeed?"

"Yes, you wrong me hourly, with miserable suspicions. Guy, remember

that I have your blood in my veins, and it will not always tamely

bear insult, even from you." She removed the handkerchief, and shook

back her glossy curls, while her face grew still paler than was its

wont.




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