"Then Madge went to take care of Lois, and they were both there. That is weeks and weeks ago,--months, I should think."

"But the sick one is well again?"

"She is better. But one does not get up from those fevers so soon.

One's strength is gone. I have sent for them to come and make me a visit and recruit."

"They are coming, I hope?"

"I expect them here to-morrow."

Mr. Dillwyn had nearly been betrayed into an exclamation. He remembered himself in time, and replied with proper self-possession that he was very glad to hear it.

"Yes, I told them to come here and rest. They must want it, poor girls, both of them."

"Then they are coming to-morrow?"

"Yes."

"By what train?"

"I believe, it is the New Haven train that gets in about five o'clock.

Or six. I do not know exactly."

"I know. Now, Mrs. Wishart, you are not well yourself, and must not go out. I will meet the train and bring them safe to you."

"You? O, that's delightful. I have been puzzling my brain to know how I should manage; for I am not fit to go out yet, and servants are so unsatisfactory. Will you really? That's good of you!"

"Not at all. It is the least I can do. The family received me most kindly on more than one occasion; and I would gladly do them a greater service than this."

At two o'clock next day the waiting-room of the New Haven station held, among others, two very handsome young girls; who kept close together, waiting for their summons to the train. One of them was very pale and thin and feeble-looking, and indeed sat so that she leaned part of her weight upon her sister. Madge was pale too, and looked somewhat anxious. Both pairs of eyes watched languidly the moving, various groups of travellers cl.u.s.tered about in the room.

"Madge, it's like a dream!" murmured the one girl to the other.

"What? If you mean this crowd, _my_ dreams have more order in them."

"I mean, being away from Esterbrooke, and off a sick-bed, and moving, and especially going to--where we are going. It's a dream!"

"Why?"

"Too good to be true. I had thought, do you know, I never should make a visit there again."

"Why not, Lois?"

"I thought it would be best not. But now the way seems clear, and I can take the fun of it. It is clearly right to go."

"Of course! It is always right to go wherever you are asked."

"O no, Madge!"

"Well,--wherever the invitation is honest, I mean."

"O, that isn't enough."

"What else? supposing you have the means to go. I am not sure that we have that condition in the present instance. But if you have, what else is to be waited for?"

"Duty--" Lois whispered.

"O, bother duty! Here have you gone and almost killed yourself for duty."

"Well,--supposing one does kill oneself?--one must do what is duty."

"That isn't duty."

"O, it may be."

"Not to kill yourself. You have almost killed yourself, Lois."

"I couldn't help it."

"Yes, you could. You make duty a kind of iron thing."

"Not iron," said Lois; she spoke slowly and faintly, but now she smiled. "It is golden!"

"That don't help. Chains of gold may be as hard to break as chains of iron."

"Who wants them broken?" said Lois, in the same slow, contented way.

"Duty? Why Madge, it's the King's orders!"

"Do you mean that you were ordered to go to that place, and then to nurse those children through the fever?"

"Yes, I think so."

"I should be terribly afraid of duty, if I thought it came in such shapes. There's the train!--Now if you can get downstairs--"

That was accomplished, though with tottering steps, and Lois was safely seated in one of the cars, and her head pillowed upon the back of the seat. There was no more talking then for some time. Only when Haarlem bridge was past and New York close at hand, Lois spoke.

"Madge, suppose Mrs. Wishart should not be here to meet us? You must think what you would do."

"Why, the train don't go any further, does it?"

"No!--but it goes back. I mean, it will not stand still for you. It moves away out of the station-house as soon as it is empty."

"There will be carriages waiting, I suppose. But I am sure I hope she will meet us. I wrote in plenty of time. Don't worry, dear! we'll manage."

"I am not worrying," said Lois. "I am a great deal too happy to worry."

However, that was not Madge's case, and she felt very fidgety. With Lois so feeble, and in a place so unknown to her, and with baggage checks to dispose of, and so little time to do anything, and no doubt a crowd of doubtful characters lounging about, as she had always heard they did in New York; Madge did wish very anxiously for a pilot and a protector. As the train slowly moved into the Grand Central, she eagerly looked to see some friend appear. But none appeared.

"We must go out, Madge," said Lois. "Maybe we shall find Mrs.