got to the house, and crept with his son's aid up to the
little room over the water, where his patient was still lying.

There was a little too much color in Myrtle's cheeks and a glistening
lustre in her eyes that told of unnatural excitement. It gave a strange
brilliancy to her beauty, and might have deceived an unpractised
observer. The old man looked at her long and curiously, his imperfect
sight excusing the closeness of his scrutiny.

He laid his trembling hand upon her forehead, and then felt her pulse
with his shriveled fingers. He asked her various questions about
herself, which she answered with a tone not quite so calm as natural, but
willingly and intelligently. They thought she seemed to the old Doctor
to be doing very well, for he spoke cheerfully to her, and treated her in
such a way that neither she nor any of those around her could be alarmed.
The younger physician was disposed to think she was only suffering from
temporary excitement, and that it would soon pass off.

They left the room to talk it over.

"It does not amount to much, I suppose, father," said Dr. Fordyce
Hurlbut. "You made the pulse about ninety,--a little hard,--did n't you;
as I did? Rest, and low diet for a day or two, and all will be right,
won't it?"

Was it the feeling of sympathy, or was it the pride of superior sagacity,
that changed the look of the old man's wrinkled features? "Not so
fast,--not so fast, Fordyce," he said. "I've seen that look on another
face of the same blood,--it 's a great many years ago, and she was dead
before you were born, my boy,--but I've seen that look, and it meant
trouble then, and I'm afraid it means trouble now. I see some danger of
a brain fever. And if she doesn't have that, then look out for some
hysteric fits that will make mischief. Take that handkerchief off of her
head, and cut her hair close, and keep her temples cool, and put some
drawing plasters to the soles of her feet, and give her some of my
pilulae compositae, and follow them with some doses of sal polychrest.
I've been through it all before--in that same house. Live folks are only
dead folks warmed over. I can see 'em all in that girl's face, Handsome
Judith, to begin with. And that queer woman, the Deacon's mother,--there
's where she gets that hystericky look. Yes, and the black-eyed woman
with the Indian blood in her,--look out for that,--look out for that.
And--and--my son, do you remember Major Gideon Withers?