death!

"But there will be a doctor," said Dorothy, "and how am I----"

Juliet interrupted her--not with tears but words of indignation: Did
Dorothy dare imagine she would allow any man but her Paul to come near
her? Did she? Could she? What did she think of her? But of course she
was prejudiced against her! It was too cruel!

The moment she could get in a word, Dorothy begged her to say what she
wished.

"You do not imagine, Juliet," she said, "that I could take such a
responsibility on myself!"

"I have thought it all over," answered Juliet. "There are women properly
qualified, and you must find one. When she says I am dying,--when she
gets frightened, you will send for my husband? Promise me."

"Juliet, I will," answered Dorothy, and Juliet was satisfied.

But notwithstanding her behavior's continuing so much the same, a
change, undivined by herself as well as unsuspected by her friend, had
begun to pass upon Juliet. Every change must begin further back than the
observation of man can reach--in regions, probably, of which we have no
knowledge. To the eyes of his own wife, a man may seem in the gall of
bitterness and the bond of iniquity, when "larger, other eyes than ours"
may be watching with delight the germ of righteousness swell within the
inclosing husk of evil. Sooner might the man of science detect the first
moment of actinic impact, and the simultaneously following change in the
hitherto slumbering acorn, than the watcher of humanity make himself
aware of the first movement of repentance. The influences now for some
time operative upon her, were the more powerful that she neither
suspected nor could avoid them. She had a vague notion that she was kind
to her host and hostess; that she was patronizing them; that her friend
Dorothy, with whom she would afterwards arrange the matter, filled their
hands for her use; that, in fact, they derived benefit from her
presence;--and surely they did, although not as she supposed. The only
benefits they reaped were invaluable ones--such as spring from love and
righteousness and neighborhood. She little thought how she interfered
with the simple pleasures and comforts of the two; how many a visit of
friends, whose talk was a holy revelry of thought and utterance,
Polwarth warded, to avoid the least danger of her discovery; how often
fear for her shook the delicate frame of Ruth; how often her host left
some book unbought, that he might procure instead some thing to