repent it.

However, we will avoid unpleasant subjects. Miss Myra Cameron, you say, is dying?' Faith pretended not to hear; she was searching in the corner of the room for her umbrella.

'Will it be many hours, do you think?' continued Miss Medley, adopting the sorrowful and sympathetic tone.

Faith, leaning with both hands upon the umbrella, confronted Miss Medley with open eyes.

'Many hours or few, Faith?'

'Just as many, or as few, as is willed above, ma'am. And as far as I can tell, Miss Myra is as yet no nearer dying than you-nor so near, if I may make bold to say it,' she added, glancing at the green book; and so, if you please, I wish you good evening.'

28

CHAPTER IV.

FAITH was not quite correct in her assertion.

Myra Cameron was nearer dying at that moment than Miss Medley-at least, according to human calculation. An hour and a half in wet clothes would alone have been sufficient to give her cold; when passion and excitement were added, no one could be surprised that she was seriously ill. Myra had locked herself into her room, and resisted both commands and entreaties to open her door. If Mrs. Patty had been there, she might, perhaps, have been more easily persuaded; but Mrs. Patty had no idea of neglecting her own duty for the sake of attending to that of others. She was wanted at home for the Clothing Club, and it was Mrs. Cameron's business to attend to her child; so Mrs. Patty went back to the Rectory, somewhat vexed at Myra's wilfulness, but never supposing for an instant that she would hold out her citadel against the attacks of the besiegers for any length of time. Great was her surprise then to learn, when in the course of the afternoon she called at the Hall again, that Myra had carried on her resistance for nearly an hour, and had only yielded at last upon being told that, if she did not, the door would be broken open.

'I think, Miss Greaves, I should have broken it open at once,' was Mrs. Patty's observation to the daily governess, whom she found watching in Myra's room and the timid young lady whom she addressed ventured to add :

'I said so once to Mrs. Cameron, but she was too nervous to answer me.'

And thus, between nervousness and timidity, Myra had been given up to her own will. Now she had no will except to be quiet, and have the room dark, Her head throbbed with excruciating pain, her lips were dry, her tongue parched, her hands burning. She had decided fever; not as yet infectious or dangerous, but in a degree which might soon become so.

It was nine o'clock, and Mrs. Patty was again at the Hall, though not in the capacity of head nurse, for she was conscious of being near-sighted, and what is termed unhandy, and Conyers, the lady's maid, was fully able to do what might be required. Neither did she consider her society any particular advantage to Juliet and Annette. They were suitable companions to each other, and did not need her; whilst Rosamond was, or ought to be, a comfort to Mrs. Cameron. It was nothing but sympathy and anxiety which made Mrs. Patty linger in the library, keeping out of the way, and rather avoiding than offering help. She had walked up from the Rectory at eight o'clock, after her brother's tea; and when she had settled him comfortably in his arm-chair, with a lamp. and a book of travels by his side, and hearing from the servant that the doctor was to see Miss Myra at ten o'clock, and that Mr. Cameron was expected

home every minute, she sent a message to Mrs. Cameron, saying that she was there, but did not wish to disturb anyone, and then waited to hear the last report. Most persons would have occupied themselves with reading under such circumstances. Mrs. Patty took some knitting from her pocket, and her fingers worked as busily as her thoughts, though, happily for the result, more connectedly. Fifteen

years had passed since she first knew the Camerons. Such was the commencement of her meditations. Myra was a baby when Dr. Kingsbury became Rector of Yare. Mrs. Cameron was very pretty then, very sweet and amiable; everyone liked her, and thought she would make such a good wife. Everyone said also that Mr. Cameron required a good wife, for he would not put up with a bad one. That had been Mrs. Patty's report of him, and it had excited her interest in him, perhaps awakened some fear. People said other things of him, that he was cold, selfish, exacting; but also that he was a very just man in business matters, and a good landlord. Mrs. Patty had speculated about Mr. Cameron then; she speculated about him now-for she was not quick at making up her opinion about anyone; and after an acquaintance-it might be termed an intimacyof fifteen years, she did not feel that she knew him, or that she could even be quite sure what he would say or do. What would he feel about Myra? Would he be anxious? Was there anything tender in his nature? Were his children really much to him? He was very proud of Rosamond, and he was proud of his sons; he liked Annette's drawings, and would

sometimes laugh at Juliet's quick sayings. But was that real affection-the affection which would stretch itself to include Myra? Mrs. Patty did not put the question to herself definitely ;-it would have seemed wrong to suppose that a father could be indifferent to any one of his children;-but she felt it—it pressed upon her uneasily; and a saddened feeling awoke in her heart a troubled tender yearning for the poor little girl whom no one liked, who was entering upon life with such grievous faults, such fierce self-will, passion, vanity, and selfishness, destined, it would seem, to be her own torment, and the torment of her friends. And Mrs. Patty laid down her knitting, and, standing up, folded her hands, and said a prayer for Myra Cameron-a prayer like that of a child in its simplicity, but like that of a saint in its earnestness.

The wheels of a carriage were heard; it drove up to the door. Then followed a determined ring, and a rush amongst the servants. Mr. Cameron was come. It was just the hour at which he might be expected from London by the last train, but Mrs. Patty was taken by surprise. She had meant to have left the library before he arrived, lest she might be in the way; but there was no mode of escape now without meeting him. She caught a few words which passed between him and the butler, and hoped he would go upstairs at once, for Mrs. Cameron was in Myra's room. But no; he came into the library first. Mrs. Patty's candle had burnt low, and the wick was long. Mr. Cameron failed to recognise her till she went forward to greet him.