her heart grew sick at the thought of what the worst might
be.

By and by there came a mild bright day, more like April than January.
Mr Elliott had gone to a distant part of the parish for the day, and
had taken Will and Rosie with him, and the sisters were left alone.
Graeme would have gladly availed herself of Deacon Snow's offer to lend
them grey Major, or to drive them himself for a few miles. The day was
so fine, she said to Menie; but she was loth to go. It would be so
pleasant to be a whole day quite alone together. Or, if Graeme liked,
they might send down for Janet in the afternoon. Graeme sighed, and
urged no more.

"We can finish our book, you know," went on Menie. "And there are the
last letters to read to Mrs Snow. I hope nobody will come in. We
shall have such a quiet day."

But this was not to be. There was the sound of sleigh-bells beneath the
window, and Graeme looked out.

"It is Doctor Chittenden," said she.

Marian rose from the sofa, trying, as she always did, when the Doctor
came, to look strong and well. She did not take his visits to herself.
Doctor Chittenden had always come now and then to see her father, and if
his visits had been more frequent of late they had not been more formal
or professional than before. Graeme watched him as he fastened his
horse, and then went to the door to meet him.

"My child," said he, as he took her hand, and turned her face to the
light, "are you quite well to-day?"

"Quite well," said Graeme; but she was very pale, and her cold hand
trembled in his.

"You are quite well, I see," said he, as Marian came forward to greet
him.

"I ought to be," said Marian, laughing and pointing to an empty bottle
on the mantelpiece.

"I see. We must have it replenished."

"Don't you think something less bitter would do as well?" said Marian,
making a pitiful face. "Graeme don't think it does me much good."

"Miss Graeme had best take care how she speaks disrespectfully of my
precious bitters. But, I'll see. I have some doubts about them myself.
You ought to be getting rosy and strong upon them, and I'm afraid you
are not," said he, looking gravely into the fair pale face that he took
between his hands. He looked up, and met Graeme's look fixed anxiously
upon him. He did not avert his quickly as he had sometimes done on such
occasions. The gravity of his look deepened as he met hers.

"Where has your father gone?" asked he.

"To the Bell neighb