aunt was
delirious, and had probably but a few hours to live. Poor Miss Vesta!
she would have broken through any interdict and flown to her aunt's
side; but she herself was housed with a heavy, feverish cold, and Doctor
Stedman's commands were absolute. "You may say what you like to your
friend," he said, "but you must obey your physician. I know what I am
about, and I forbid you to leave the house!"

At these words Miss Vesta leaned back on her sofa-pillow with a gentle
sigh. James did know what he was about, of course; and--since he had
privately assured her that he did not consider Mrs. Tree in any danger,
and since she really felt quite unable to stand, much less to go out--it
was very comfortable to be absolutely forbidden to do so. Still it was
not a pleasant day for Miss Vesta. Mrs. Pryor never left her side,
declaring that _this_ duty at least she could and would perform, and
Vesta might be assured she would never desert her; and the stream of
talk about the Darracott blood, the family portraits, and the
astonishing moral obliquity of most persons except Mrs. Pryor herself,
flowed on and around and over Miss Vesta's aching head till she felt
that she was floating away on waves of the fluid which is thicker than
water.

In the afternoon a bolt fell. It was about five o'clock, near the time
for Doctor Stedman's daily visit, when the door flew open without knock
or ring, and Tragedy appeared on the threshold in the person of Mrs.
Malvina Weight. Speechless, she stood in the doorway and beckoned. She
had been running, a method of locomotion for which nature had not
intended her; her breath came in quick gasps, and her face was as the
face of a Savoy cabbage.

"For pity's sake!" cried Mrs. Pryor. "What is the matter, Malvina?"

"She's gone!" gasped Mrs. Weight.

"Who's gone? Do speak up! What do you mean, Malvina Weight?"

"Mis' Tree! there's crape on the door. I see it--three minutes ago--with
these eyes! I run all the way--just as I was; I've got my death, I
expect--palpitations--I had to come. She's gone in her sins! Oh, girls,
ain't it awful?"

Miss Vesta, pale and trembling, tried to rise, but fell back on the
sofa.

"James!" she said, faintly; "where is James Stedman?"

"Stay where you are, Vesta Blyth!" cried Mrs. Pryor. "I will send for
Doctor Stedman; I will attend to everything. I am going to the house
myself this instant. Here, Diploma! come and take care of your mistress!
cologne, salts, what