s
meal invaded by the presence of a guest, even of one so well known as
Tony.

Tony muttered some not very connected excuses, while his eyes turned
to Dolly, who, still pale and sickly-looking, gave him one little brief
nod, as though to say it were better he should go; and the old minister
himself stood erect in the middle of the floor, calmly and almost coldly
waiting the words "Good-bye."

"Am I to tell mother you 'll come to us to-morrow, doctor,--you and
Dolly?" asked Tony, with his band on the door.

"It's no on the Sabbath evening we should turn our thoughts to feastin',
Master Tony; and none know that better than your worthy mother. I wish
you a good-evening and a pleasant walk."

"Good-night," said Tony, shutting the door sharply; "and," muttered he
to himself, "if you catch _me_ crossing your threshold again, Sabbath or
week-day--" He stopped, heaved a deep sigh, and, drawing his hand across
his eyes, said, "My poor dear Dolly, hasn't my precious temper done you
mischief enough already, that I must let it follow you to your own quiet
fireside?"

And he went his way, with many a vow of self-amendment, and many a kind
wish, that was almost a prayer, for the minister and his daughter.

CHAPTER XXIX. DEPARTURES

All was confusion and dismay at Tilney. Bella Lyle's cold turned out
to be scarlatina, and Mark and Alice brought back tidings that old
Commodore Graham had been seized with a fit, and was seriously, if not
dangerously, ill. Of course, the company scattered like an exploded
shell. The Graham girls hastened back to their father, while the other
guests sought safety in flight, the great struggle now being who should
soonest secure post-horses to get away. Like many old people rich in
this world's comforts, Mrs. Maxwell had an especial aversion to illness
in any shape. It was a topic she never spoke on; and, if she could,
would never have mentioned before her. Her intimates understood this
thoroughly, and many were the expressions employed to imply that Mr.
Such-a-one had a fever, or Mrs. So-and-so was given over by her doctors.
As to the fatal result itself, it was always veiled in a sort of decent
mystery, as though it would not be perfectly polite to inquire whither
the missing friend had retired to.

"Dr. Reede says it is a very mild case of the malady, and that Bella
will be up in a day or two, aunt," said Alice.

"Of course she will," replied the old lady, pettishly. "It 's just a
cold a