Scarcely had the door closed on him when, emboldened by his last
words to ask a question she greatly wished, yet dreaded to ask,
Maude turned to John and said, "Am I much pitted?"

Rolling up his eyes and wholly mistaking her meaning, John replied,
"I aint no great of a physiognomer, but when a thing is as plain as
day I can discern it as well as the next one, and if that ar' chap
haint pitied you, and done a heap more'n that, I'm mistaken."

"But," continued Maude, smiling at his simplicity, "I mean shall I
probably be scarred?"

"Oh, bless you, not a scar," answered John, "for don't you mind how
he kep' the iled silk and wet rags on yer face, and how that night
when you was sickest he held yer hands so you couldn't tache that
little feller between yer eyes. That was the spunkiest varmint of
'em all, and may leave a mark like the one under yer ear, but it
won't spile yer looks an atom."

"And Louis?" said Maude, "is he disfigured?"

"Not a disfigurement," returned John, "but the ole governor, he's a
right smart sprinklin' of 'em, one squar' on the tip of his nose,
and five or six more on his face."

Thus relieved of her immediate fears Maude asked many questions
concerning Louis, who she learned had not been very sick.

"You can see him afore long, I reckon," said John, and in a few days
she was able to join him in the sitting room below.

After a while Hannah returned to her post of duty, her beauty
unimpaired, and herself thoroughly ashamed of having thus
heartlessly deserted her master's family in their affliction. As if
to make amends for this she exerted herself to cleanse the house
from everything which could possibly inspire fear on the villagers,
and by the last of August there was scarce a trace left of the
recent scourge, save the deep scar on the end of the doctor's nose,
one or two marks on Louis' face, and a weakness of Maude's eyes,
which became at last a cause of serious alarm.

It was in vain that Louis implored his father to seek medical aid in
Rochester, where the physicians were supposed to have more
experience in such matters. The doctor refused, saying, "'twas a
maxim of his not to counsel with anyone, and he guessed he knew how
to manage sore eyes."

But Maude's eyes were not sore--they were merely weak, while the
pain in the eyeball was sometimes so intense as to wring from her a
cry, of suffering. Gradually there crept into her heart a horrid
fear that her sight was growing dim, and