soon as they reached the
hall. In sending for Madame Fontaine, Mr. Keller had placed a natural
reliance on the experience and presence of mind of a woman of her age and
character. To his surprise, she seemed to be as little able to control
herself as her daughter. He was obliged to summon the assistance of the
elder of the female servants, in carrying Mrs. Wagner to her room. Jack
went with them, holding one of his mistress's helpless hands.

His first paroxysm of terror had passed away with the appearance of Mr.
Keller and the clerk, and had left his weak mind stunned by the shock
that had fallen on it. He looked about him vacantly. Once or twice, on
the slow sad progress up the stairs, they heard him whispering to
himself, "She won't die--no, no, no; she won't die." His only consolation
seemed to be in that helpless confession of faith. When they laid her on
the bed, he was close at the side of the pillow. With an effort, her eyes
turned on him. With an effort she whispered, "The Key!"

He understood her--the desk downstairs had been left unlocked.

"I'll take care of the key, Mistress; I'll take care of them all," he
said.

As he left the room, he repeated his comforting words, "She won't
die--no, no, no; she won't die." He locked the desk and placed the key
with the rest in his bag.

Leaving the office with the bag slung over his shoulder, he stopped at
the door of the dining-room, on the opposite side of the hall. His head
felt strangely dull. A sudden suspicion that the feeling might show
itself in his face, made him change his mind and pause before he ascended
the stairs. There was a looking-glass in the dining-room. He went
straight to the glass, and stood before it, studying the reflection of
his face with breathless anxiety. "Do I look stupid-mad?" he asked
himself. "They won't let me be with her; they'll send me away, if I look
stupid-mad."

He turned from the glass, and dropped on his knees before the nearest
chair. "Perhaps God will keep me quiet," he thought, "if I say my
prayers."

Repeating his few simple words, the poor creature's memory vaguely
recalled to him the happy time when his good mistress had first taught
him his prayers. The one best relief that could come to him, came--the
relief of tears. Mr. Keller, descending to the hall in his impatience for
the arrival of the doctor, found himself unexpectedly confronted by Mrs.
Wagner's crazy attendant.

"May I go upstairs to Mistress?" Jack