who might respect her bear to the men who might make her the object of
advances, which it was hardly possible to imagine without shuddering.
She crept exhausted to her bed, the most helpless, hopeless creature on
the wide surface of the earth--a girl self-devoted to the task of a man.

Careful to perform his promise to Mirabel, without delay, the doctor
called on Emily early in the morning--before the hour at which he
usually entered his consulting-room.

"Well? What's the matter with the pretty young mistress?" he asked,
in his most abrupt manner, when Mrs. Ellmother opened the door. "Is it
love? or jealousy? or a new dress with a wrinkle in it?"

"You will hear about it, sir, from Miss Emily herself. I am forbidden to
say anything."

"But you mean to say something--for all that?"

"Don't joke, Doctor Allday! The state of things here is a great deal too
serious for joking. Make up your mind to be surprised--I say no more."

Before the doctor could ask what this meant, Emily opened the parlor
door. "Come in!" she said, impatiently.

Doctor Allday's first greeting was strictly professional. "My dear
child, I never expected this," he began. "You are looking wretchedly
ill." He attempted to feel her pulse. She drew her hand away from him.

"It's my mind that's ill," she answered. "Feeling my pulse won't cure
me of anxiety and distress. I want advice; I want help. Dear old doctor,
you have always been a good friend to me--be a better friend than ever
now."

"What can I do?"

"Promise you will keep secret what I am going to say to you--and listen,
pray listen patiently, till I have done."

Doctor Allday promised, and listened. He had been, in some degree at
least, prepared for a surprise--but the disclosure which now burst on
him was more than his equanimity could sustain. He looked at Emily in
silent dismay. She had surprised and shocked him, not only by what she
said, but by what she unconsciously suggested. Was it possible that
Mirabel's personal appearance had produced on her the same impression
which was present in his own mind? His first impulse, when he was
composed enough to speak, urged him to put the question cautiously.

"If you happened to meet with the suspected man," he said, "have you any
means of identifying him?"

"None whatever, doctor. If you would only think it over--"

He stopped her there; convinced of the danger of encouraging her, and
resolved to act on his conviction.

"I have e