Mrs. Ashton's maid,
Matilda, had already taken it."

"Did Miss Ashton give you these particulars?" asked Maude, toying with a
late rose that lay beside her plate.

"Yes. I should feel inclined to prosecute the woman, were I Dr. Ashton,
for having been so wickedly inconsiderate. But I hope Matilda is better,
and that the alarm will end with her. It is four days since I had Anne's
letter."

"Then, Lord Hartledon, I can tell you the alarm's worse, and another has
taken it, and the parish is up in arms," said the countess-dowager,
tartly. "It has proved to be fever of a most malignant type, and not a
soul but Hillary the surgeon goes near the Rectory, You must not venture
within half-a-mile of it. Dr. Ashton was so careless as to occupy his
pulpit on Sunday; but, thank goodness, I did not venture to church,
or allow Maude to go. Your Miss Ashton will be having it next."

"Of course they have advice from Garchester?" he exclaimed.

"How should I know? My opinion is that the parson himself might be
prosecuted for bringing the fever into a healthy neighbourhood. Port,
Hedges! One has need of a double portion of tonics in a time like this."

The countess-dowager's alarms were not feigned--no, nor exaggerated. She
had an intense, selfish fear of any sort of illness; she had a worse fear
of death. In any time of public epidemic her terrors would have been
almost ludicrous in their absurdity but that they were so real. And she
"fortified" herself against infection by eating and drinking more than
ever.

Nothing else was said: she shunned allusion to it when she could: and
presently she and Maude left the dining-room. "You won't be long,
Hartledon?" she observed, sweetly, as she passed him. Val only bowed in
answer, closed the door upon them, and rang for Hedges.

"Is there much alarm regarding this fever at the Rectory?" he asked of
the butler.

"Not very much, I think, my lord. A few are timid about it; as is always
the case. One of the other servants has taken it; but Mr. Hillary told me
when he was here this morning that he hoped it would not spread beyond
the Rectory."

"Was Hillary here this morning? Nobody's ill?" asked Lord Hartledon,
quickly.

"No one at all, my lord. The countess-dowager sent for him, to ask what
her diet had better be, and how she could guard against infection more
effectually than she was doing. She did not allow him to come in, but
spoke to him from one of the upper windows, with a cloak