th.

The door from the corridor slowly opened, and Miss Carlyle slowly
entered. She had probably never walked with so gentle a step in all her
life, and she had got a thick-wadded mantle over her head and ears. Down
she sat in a chair quite meekly, and Joyce saw that her face looked as
gray as the early dawn.

"Joyce," whispered she, "is there any danger?"

"Oh, ma'am, I trust not! But it's hard to witness, and it must be awful
to bear."

"It is our common curse, Joyce. You and I may congratulate ourselves
that we have not chose to encounter it. Joyce," she added, after a
pause, "I trust there's no danger; I should not like her to die."

Miss Carlyle spoke in a low, dread tone. Was she fearing that, if
her poor young sister-in-law did die, a weight would rest on her own
conscience for all time--a heavy, ever-present weight, whispering that
she might have rendered her short year of marriage more happy, had she
chosen; and that she had not so chosen, but had deliberately steeled
every crevice of her heart against her? Very probably; she looked
anxious and apprehensive in the morning's twilight.

"If there's any danger, Joyce--"

"Why, do you think there's danger, ma'am?" interrupted Joyce. "Are other
people not as ill as this?"

"It is to be hoped they are not," rejoined Miss Carlyle. "And why is the
express gone to Lynneborough for Dr. Martin?"

Up started Joyce, awe struck. "An express for Dr. Martin! Oh, ma'am! Who
sent it? When did it go?"

"All I know is, that's its gone. Mr. Wainwright went to your master, and
he came out of his room and sent John galloping to the telegraph office
at West Lynne; where could your ears have been, not to hear the horse
tearing off? _I_ heard it, I know that, and a nice fright it put me in.
I went to Mr. Carlyle's room to ask what was amiss, and he said he did
not know himself--nothing, he hoped. And then he shut his door again
in my face, instead of stopping to speak to me as any other Christian
would."

Joyce did not answer; she was faint with apprehension; and there was
a silence, broken only by the sounds from the next room. Miss Carlyle
rose, and a fanciful person might have thought she was shivering.

"I can't stand this, Joyce; I shall go. If they want coffee, or anything
of that, it can be sent here. Ask."

"I will presently, in a few minutes," answered Joyce, with a real
shiver. "You are not going in, are you, ma'am?" she uttered, in
apprehension, as Miss Carly