at's a curious woman," he said, when Mrs. Ellmother closed the door;
"the most headstrong person, I think, I ever met with. But devoted
to her mistress, and, making allowance for her awkwardness, not a bad
nurse. I am afraid I can't give you an encouraging report of your aunt.
The rheumatic fever (aggravated by the situation of this house--built
on clay, you know, and close to stagnant water) has been latterly
complicated by delirium."

"Is that a bad sign, sir?"

"The worst possible sign; it shows that the disease has affected the
heart. Yes: she is suffering from inflammation of the eyes, but that is
an unimportant symptom. We can keep the pain under by means of cooling
lotions and a dark room. I've often heard her speak of you--especially
since the illness assumed a serious character. What did you say? Will
she know you, when you go into her room? This is about the time when the
delirium usually sets in. I'll see if there's a quiet interval."

He opened the door--and came back again.

"By the way," he resumed, "I ought perhaps to explain how it was that I
took the liberty of sending you that telegram. Mrs. Ellmother refused
to inform you of her mistress's serious illness. That circumstance,
according to my view of it, laid the responsibility on the doctor's
shoulders. The form taken by your aunt's delirium--I mean the apparent
tendency of the words that escape her in that state--seems to excite
some incomprehensible feeling in the mind of her crabbed servant. She
wouldn't even let _me_ go into the bedroom, if she could possibly help
it. Did Mrs. Ellmother give you a warm welcome when you came here?"

"Far from it. My arrival seemed to annoy her."

"Ah--just what I expected. These faithful old servants always end by
presuming on their fidelity. Did you ever hear what a witty poet--I
forget his name: he lived to be ninety--said of the man who had been his
valet for more than half a century? 'For thirty years he was the best
of servants; and for thirty years he has been the hardest of masters.'
Quite true--I might say the same of my housekeeper. Rather a good story,
isn't it?"

The story was completely thrown away on Emily; but one subject
interested her now. "My poor aunt has always been fond of me," she said.
"Perhaps she might know me, when she recognizes nobody else."

"Not very likely," the doctor answered. "But there's no laying down any
rule in cases of this kind. I have sometimes observed that circumstan