one of the upper windows disappeared for a moment, and reappeared again
at one of the smaller openings near the front steps. He drew rein
again. Someone was moving about--who he did not know; perhaps Jane,
perhaps one of the servants. Tying the lines to the dashboard, he
sprang from the gig, tethered the mare to one of the lilac bushes, and
walked briskly toward the house. As he neared the steps the door was
opened and Martha's voice rang clear:

"Meg, you rascal, come in, or shall I let ye stay out and freeze?"

Doctor John stepped upon the porch, the light of Martha's candle
falling on his face and figure.

"It's I, Martha, don't be frightened; it's late, I know, but I hoped
Miss Jane would be up. Has she gone to bed?"

The old nurse started back. "Lord, how ye skeered me! I don't know
whether she's asleep or not. She's upstairs with Archie, anyhow. I come
out after this rapscallion that makes me look him up every night. I've
talked to him till I'm sore, and he's promised me a dozen times, and
here he is out ag'in. Here! Where are ye? In with ye, ye little beast!"
The dog shrank past her and darted into the hall. "Now, then, doctor,
come in out of the cold."

Doctor John stepped softly inside and stood in the flare of the
candle-light. He felt that he must give some reason for his appearance
at this late hour, even if he did not see Jane. It would be just as
well, therefore, to tell Martha of Bart's death at once, and not let
her hear it, as she was sure to do, from someone on the street. Then
again, he had kept few secrets from her where Jane was concerned; she
had helped him many times before, and her advice was always good. He
knew that she was familiar with every detail of the captain's story,
but he did not propose to discuss Lucy's share in it with the old
nurse. That he would reserve for Jane's ears alone.

"Bring your candle into the sitting-room, Martha; I have something to
tell you," he said gravely, loosening the cape of his overcoat and
laying his hat on the hall table.

The nurse followed. The measured tones of the doctor's voice, so unlike
his cheery greetings, especially to her, unnerved her. This, in
connection with the suppressed excitement under which he seemed to
labor and the late hour of his visit, at once convinced her that
something serious had happened.

"Is there anything the matter?" she asked in a trembling voice.

"Yes."

"Is it about Lucy? There ain't nothin' gone wrong with he