ock might be fatal. Were those
children to lose both parents? The doctor was going,--no mortal aid now
could avail for him,--but must the mother also leave the children?

"I do not know what to do," thought Dorothy. "She must see her
husband--they _must_ meet. He is the bravest man I know, but can he
suppress his own feelings now--now that he is dying? No, no, it is too
much to ask; but I greatly, greatly fear that if he does not, the shock
will kill her."

Dorothy went slowly downstairs. She was generally decisive in her
actions. Now, she trembled, and a terrible nervousness seized her.

When she reached the little entrance hall, and was about to open the
door of the parlor where she expected to find Mrs. Staunton, she was
surprised to come face to face with a tall, bronzed young man, who was
taking off his hat and hanging it on one of the pegs in the hat-rack. He
turned, and started when, he saw her. He was evidently unfamiliar with
nurses and sickness. His face flushed up, and he said in a sort of
apologetic way:

"Surely this is Dr. Staunton's house?"

"Yes," said Dorothy.

"I am George Staunton. I--I came down on pressing business--I want to
see my father in a hurry. What is the matter?"

He stepped back a pace or two, startled by the expression on Dorothy's
face.

"Come in here at once," she said, seizing his hand. She dragged him into
the seldom-used drawing-room. The moment they got inside, she
deliberately locked the door.

"You have come just in time," she said. "You must bear up. I hope you'll
be brave. Can you bear a great shock without--without fainting, or
anything of that sort?"

"Oh, I won't faint!" he answered. His lips trembled, his blue eyes grew
wide open, the pupils began to dilate.

"I believe you are a brave lad," said Dorothy, noticing these signs. "It
is your lot now to come face to face with great trouble. Dr.
Staunton--your father--is dying."

"Good God! Merciful God!" said the lad. He sank down on the nearest
chair--he was white to the lips.

Dorothy went up and took his hand.

"There, there!" she said. "You'll be better in a moment. Try to forget
yourself--we have not, any of us, a single instant just now to think of
ourselves. I have come down to fetch your mother."

"You are the nurse?" said George, glancing at her dress.

"Yes, I am nursing your father. It has been a very bad
case--diphtheria--a very acute and hopeless case from the first. There's
a great deal of inf