"That is a great mistake, Mrs. Davis. People do him injustice. He has one of the kindest, warmest hearts I ever knew, though sometimes he is rather abrupt in his manner. If you prefer it, however, I will see your doctor.

Good-bye; I will come again to-morrow."

As she took her bridle from Philip's hand, the boy looked up at her with an expression bordering on adoration.

"Thank you, Philip; how did he behave?"

"Not very well; but he is beautiful enough to make up for his wildness."

"That is bad doctrine; beauty never should excuse bad behaviour. Is your mother at home?"

"No, ma'am."

"When she comes, ask her I say please to step in now and then, and overlook things for Mrs. Davis; Susan is sick. Philip, if it is not asking too much of you, Johnnie would like to have you sit by him till his little sister comes home, and wet that cloth which I left on his head. Will you?"

"Indeed, I will; I am very glad you told me. Certainly I will."

"I thought so. Don't talk to him; let him sleep if he will. Good-bye."

She went first to a woodyard on the river, and left an order for a cord of wood to be sent immediately to No. 13, Factory Row; then took the street leading to Doctor Brandon's office. A servant sat on the step whistling merrily; and, in answer to her questions, he informed her that his master had just left town, to be absent two days. She rode on for a few squares, doubling her veil in the hope of shrouding her features, and stopped once more in front of the door where stood Dr. Arnold's buggy.

"Cyrus, is the doctor in his office?"

"Yes, Miss Irene."

"Hold my horse for me."

She gathered the folds of her riding-habit over her arm, and went upstairs.

Leaning far back in his chair, with his feet on the fender of the grate, sat Dr. Arnold, watching the blue smoke of his meerschaum curl lazily in faint wreaths over his head; and as she entered, a look of pleasant surprise came instantly into his cold, clear eyes.

"Bless me! Irene; I am glad to see you. It is many a day since you have shown your face here; sit down. Now, then, what is to pay? You are in trouble, of course; you never think of me except when you are. Has old Nellie treated herself to another spell of rheumatism, or Paragon broke his leg, or smallpox broke out anywhere; or, worse than all, have the hawks taken to catching your pigeons?"

"None of these catastrophes has overtaken me; but I come, as usual, to ask a favour. If you please, I want you to go up to the Factory Row this evening. Mrs. Davis, No. 13, has two children very sick, I am afraid. I don't like the appearance of their tongues."

"Humph! what do you know about tongues, I should like to be informed?"

"How to use my own, sir, at least, when there is a necessity for it. They are what you medical _savans_ call typhoid tongues; and from what I heard to-day, I am afraid there will be a distressing amount of sickness among the operatives. Of course you will go, sir?"

"How do you know that so well? Perhaps I will and perhaps I won't. n.o.body ever looks after me, or cares about the condition of my health; I don't see why I must adopt the whole human race. See here, my child! do not let me hear of you at the Row again soon; it is no place for you, my lily. Ten to one it is some low, miserable typhus fever showing itself, and I will take care of your precious pets only on condition that you keep away, so that I shall not be haunted with the dread of having you, also, on my hands. If I lay eyes on you at the Row, I swear I will write to Leonard to chain you up at home. Do you hear?"

"I shall come every day; I promise you that."

"Oh! you are ambitious of martyrdom? But typhus fever is not the style, Queen. There is neither _eclat_ nor glory in such a death."

A sad smile curved her mouth, as she answered slowly--

"That is problematical, Doctor. But it is getting late, and I wish, if you please, you would go at once to the Row."

"Stop! if any good is accomplished among those semi-savages up yonder, who is to have the credit? Tell me that."

"G.o.d shall have the thanks; you all the credit as the worthy instrument, and I as much of the gratification as I can steal from you. Are you satisfied with your wages, my honoured Shylock? Good night."

"Humph! it is strange what a hold that queer motherless child took upon my heart in her babyhood, and it tightens as she grows older."

He shook the ashes from his pipe, put it away behind the clock, and went down to his buggy. Before breakfast the following morning, while Irene was in the poultry-yard feeding her chickens and pigeons, pheasants and peafowls, she received a note from Dr. Arnold containing these few scrawling words:--

"If you do not feel quite ready for the day of judgment, avoid the Row as you would the plagues of Egypt. I found no less than six developed cases of rank typhus.

"Yours,

"HIRAM ARNOLD."

She put the note in her pocket, and, while the pigeons fluttered and perched on her shoulders and arms, cooing and pecking at her fingers, she stood musing--calculating the chances of contagion and death if she persisted. Raising her eyes to the calm blue sky, the perplexed look pa.s.sed from her countenance, and, fully decided regarding her course, she went in to breakfast. Mr. Huntingdon was going to a neighbouring county with Judge Peterson, to transact some business connected with Hugh's estate, and, as the buggy came to the door, he asked, carelessly--

"What did Cyrus want?"

"He came to bring me a note from the doctor, concerning some sick people whom I asked him to see."

"Oh! John, put my overcoat in the buggy. Come, Judge; I am ready."

As he made no inquiry about the sick, she volunteered no explanation, and he bade her good-bye with manifest cold indifference. She could not avoid congratulating herself that, since he must take this journey soon, he had selected the present occasion to be absent, for she was well aware that he would violently oppose her wishes in the matter of the Row. When Dr. Arnold met her late in the afternoon of the same day, at little Johnnie's side, his surprise and chagrin found vent, first in a series of oaths, then, scowling at her like some thunder-cloud with the electricity expended, he said--

"Do you consider me a stark idiot, or a shallow quack?"

"Neither, sir, I a.s.sure you."

"Then, if I know anything about my business, I wrote you the truth this morning, and you treat my advice with cool contempt. You vex me beyond all endurance! Do you want to throw yourself into the jaws of death?"

"You forget, Doctor: 'Greater love hath no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.'"

She slipped her hand into his, and looked up, smiling and calm, into his harsh, swarthy face.

"My child, you made a mistake; your life belongs to me, for I saved it in your infancy. I cradled you in my arms, lest death should s.n.a.t.c.h you. I have a better right to you than anybody else in this world. I don't want to see you die; I wish to go first."

"I know what I owe you, Doctor; but I am not going to die, and you have scolded me enough for one time. Do make peace."

"Remember, I warned you, and you would not heed."

From that hour she kept faithful vigil in No. 13, pa.s.sing continually from one bedside to another. Susan's attack proved comparatively light, and she was soon p.r.o.nounced convalescent; but little Johnnie was desperately ill, and for several nights Irene sat at his pillow, fearing that every hour would be his last. While his delirium was at its height, Hester was taken violently, and on the morning when Irene felt that her labour was not in vain, and that the boy would get well, his little sister, whom she had nursed quite as a.s.siduously, grew rapidly worse, and died at noon. As is frequently observed in such diseases, this increased in virulence with every new case. It spread with astonishing celerity through the Row, baffling the efforts of the best physicians in W----; and finally, the day after Hester's death, as Irene sat trying to comfort the poor mother, a neighbour came in exclaiming--

"Oh, Miss Irene! Philip Martin is down too. He caught the fever from his mother, and his father says won't you please come over?"

She went promptly, though so wearied she could scarcely stand, and took a seat by the bed where tossed the poor boy in whom she had taken such an interest.

"You must go home, Miss Huntingdon; you are worn out. His father can watch him till his mother gets stronger," said Dr. Brandon, who was fully acquainted with the unremitting attendance at the next house.

"No, I must stay with Philip; perhaps he will know me when he wakes."