the absence of mind now and then betrayed by
his auditor, who, at Dr. Spencer's door, exclaimed, "Stop, Hector, let
me out here--thank you;" and presently brought out his friend into the
garden, and sat down on the grass, talking low and earnestly over the
disease with which Mr. Rivers had been so long affected; for though Dr.
May could not perceive any positively unfavourable symptom, he had
been rendered vaguely uneasy by the unusual heaviness and depression
of manner. So long did they sit conversing, that Blanche was sent out,
primed with an impertinent message, that two such old doctors ought to
be ashamed of themselves for sitting so late in the dew.

Dr. Spencer was dragged in to drink tea, and the meal had just been
merrily concluded, when the door bell rang, and a message was brought
in. "The carriage from the Grange, sir; Miss Rivers would be much
obliged if you would come directly."

"There!" said Dr. May, looking at Dr. Spencer, as if to say, I told you
so, in the first triumph of professional sagacity; but the next moment
exclaiming, "Poor little Meta!" he hurried away.

A gloom fell on those who remained, for, besides their sympathy for
Meta, and their liking for her kind old father, there was that one
unacknowledged heartache, which, though in general bravely combated,
lay in wait always ready to prey on them. Hector stole round to sit by
Margaret, and Dr. Spencer muttered, "This will never do," and sent
Tom to fetch some papers lying on his table, whence he read them some
curious accounts that he had just received from his missionary friends
in India.

They were interested, but in a listening mood, that caused a universal
start when the bell again sounded. This time, James reported that the
servant from the Grange said his master was very ill--he had brought
a letter to post for Mr. George Rivers, and here was a note for Miss
Ethel. It was the only note Ethel had ever received from her father, and
contained these few words:

"DEAR E.--,

"I believe this attack will be the last. Come to Meta, and bring my
things. R. M."

Ethel put her hands to her forehead. It was as if she had been again
plunged into the stunned dream of misery of four years ago, and her
sensation was of equal bewilderment and uselessness; but it was but for
a moment--the next she was in a state of over-bustle and eagerness. She
wanted to fly about and hasten to help Meta, and could hard