, until just this
moment; and Miss Evelyn has not been able to sit up in her bed since she
went to it last night, that shock yesterday overcame her so completely."
By this time she was standing by my pillow, after laying aside her
knitting, in a leisurely manner peculiar to her at all seasons. "But
Mabel is in the next room; let me call her to you."

"Let her stay there," I interrupted, in a manner so unusual with me,
whose first inquiry on reviving from illness had always been for Mabel,
instead of Evelyn, that Mrs. Austin looked surprised and startled.

"What ails you, Miss Miriam? I thought Mabel was always your first
thought; the little angel! She has been hanging over you tearfully all
day; never going near Miss Evelyn at all. It is so strange she shows
such partiality!"

Strange that one being on earth, and that one my sister, should love me
better than Evelyn, in the eyes of her partial affection; and yet Evelyn
treated her with positive disrespect every day of her life, as I never
did; and often with severity as well. It was incomprehensible!

"Give me the panada," I said, grimly; "I am half starved, and must grow
strong again to do my work. I am not nearly so weak as I usually am,
though, after one of my seizures."

"You see you are outgrowing them, as Dr. Pemberton predicted you would.
I declare, you _are_ hungry, poor child; you have not left a
drop--pint-bowl too--with a gill of wine in it. Not going to get up,
Miss Miriam? Oh, no; you must not venture to do that yet."

And she tried gently to restrain me.

"Yes, I must get about again; I have much to do, and Evelyn must aid me,
if able. Is she ill or only nervous?"

"Very ill, I think; she wrote a note to Dr. Craig and sent it last
night, after you went to sleep; but he did not come."

"Quite naturally, since he had been absent some weeks. I could have told
her," I said, sententiously; "indeed, I thought she knew it. Who carried
her note?"

"Morton."

"Poor old man! The idea of sending him on such a wild-goose chase, after
night. Papa would turn in his grave could he know he had been forced out
in the rain at such an hour, for a woman's whim. I would have suffered
tortures till morning first. Where was Franklin?"

"Franklin had gone home earlier than usual, and did not return to-day.
He is sick with a chill, we hear, and his wife is again ill."

"Who did the marketing?"

"Morton."

"Morton again! Why, the old man seems to be becoming a _f