that it seemed as if the weary woman who looked at her from
the pillow must imbibe some vigor from the mere sight of her.

The fever was soon subdued by Dr. Kirby's prompt remedies. But
Margaret's strength came back but slowly, so slowly that Mrs. Rutherford
"could not understand it;" Aunt Katrina never "understood" anything that
interfered with her comfort. However, on the eleventh day her niece came
in to see her for a few moments, looking white and shadowy, it is true,
but quite herself in every other way; on the fourteenth day she took her
place again at the head of the house, and Betty, with her endless
kind-heartedness and her disreputable old carpet-bag, with a lion
pictured on its sides, no lock, and its handles tied together with a
piece of string, returned to her home.

That night--it was the 7th of January--there was a great storm; a high
wind from the north, with torrents of rain. Mrs. Rutherford, having, as
she complained, "nothing to amuse her," had fallen asleep just before it
began, and, strange to say, slept through it all. When she said she had
"nothing," she meant "nobody," and her "nobody" was Dr. Reginald. For
the Doctor was not at East Angels that night; he had remained there
constantly through the first five days of Margaret's illness, and he now
felt that he must give some time to his patients in Gracias. Winthrop
also was absent.

For to the astonishment and indignation of Betty, Winthrop had started
early on Christmas morning on a journey up the St. John's River; when
she and Garda had come in to breakfast he was not there, and Dr. Kirby,
entering later, had informed them that Telano had given him a note which
said that he (Winthrop) had suddenly decided to take this excursion
immediately, instead of waiting until the 1st of February, his original
date.

"Suddenly decided--I should think so!" said Betty. "Between bedtime and
daylight--that's all. And on Christmas morning too! I never heard of
such a thing! Lucian went off on Christmas-eve. All the men have gone
mad." But here her attention was turned by the entrance of Celestine
with the tidings of Margaret's fever.

Before he had joined the ladies at the breakfast-table that morning, the
Doctor, contrary to his usual custom, had been out. He had been greatly
startled by Winthrop's note, which Telano had brought to him as soon as
he was up; hurrying his dressing, he had hastened forth to make
inquiries. The note had stated that its writer