he wants
it?"
"I must not wait for that. He is young, and, as we all imagine, not
over wise: and a dozen of our poor neighbours might die before he became
aware of as much as I know to-night about this epidemic. No, love; my
dignity must give way to the safety of our neighbours. Depend upon it,
Walcot will be glad enough to hear what I have to say--if not to-morrow,
by next week at furthest."
"So soon? What makes you say next week?"
"I judge partly from the rate of progress of the fever elsewhere, and
partly from the present state of health in Deerbrook. There are other
reasons too. I have seen some birds of ill omen on the wing hitherward
this evening."
"What can you mean?"
"I mean fortune-tellers. Are you not aware that in seasons of plague--
of the epidemics of our times, as well as the plagues of former days--
conjurors, and fortune-tellers, and quacks appear, as a sort of heralds
of the disease? They are not really so, for the disease in fact
precedes them; but they show themselves so immediately on its arrival,
and usually before its presence is acknowledged, that they have often
been thought to bring it. They have early information of its existence
in any place; and they come to take advantage of the first panic of the
inhabitants, where there are enough who are ignorant to make the
speculation a good one. I saw two parties of these people trooping
hither; and we shall have heard something of their prophecies, and of a
fever case or two, before this time to-morrow, I have little doubt."
"It is this prospect which has made you sad," said Hester.
"No, my dear--not that alone. But do not let us talk about being sad.
What does it matter?"
"Yes; do let us talk about it," said Margaret, "if, as I suspect, you
are sad for us. It is about Morris's going away, is it not?"
"About many things. It is impossible to be at all times unaffected by
such changes as have come upon us; I cannot always forget what my
profession once was to me, for honour, for occupation, and for income.
I confidently reckoned on bringing you both to a home full of comfort.
Never were women so cherished as I meant that you should be. And now it
has ended in your little incomes being almost our only resource, and in
your being deprived of your old friend Morris, some years before her
time. I can hardly endure to think of to-morrow."
"And do you really call this the end?" asked Margaret. "Do you consider
our desti
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