you think. Well, I don't know
about that; she is just the kind of a girl to go from one extreme to
another. If she once loves you she will not care any longer about
Paris fashions."

"She shall love me," I cried, and left him in a great hurry, to catch
the first train for Hoboken.

It seemed wild, this scheme, but I determined to pursue it. I loved
Dora too much to lose her, and if three weeks' absence would procure me
the happiness of my life, why should I hesitate to avail myself of the
proffered opportunity. I rode on air as the express I had taken shot
from station to station, and by the time I had arrived at Christopher
Street Ferry my plans were all laid and my time disposed of till
midnight.

It was therefore with no laggard step I hurried to my office, nor was
it with any ordinary feelings of impatience that I found Richter out;
for this was not his usual hour for absenting himself and I had much to
tell him and many advices to give. It was the first balk I had
received and I was fuming over it, when I saw what looked like a
package of books lying on the table before me, and though it was
addressed to my partner, I was about to take it up, when I heard my
name uttered in a tremulous tone, and turning, saw a man standing in
the doorway, who, the moment I met his eye, advanced into the room and
said:

"O doctor, I have been waiting for you an hour. Mrs. Warner has been
taken very bad, sir, and she prays that you will not delay a moment
before coming to her. It is something serious I fear, and she may have
died already, for she would have no one else but you, and it is now an
hour since I left her."

"And who are you?" I asked, for though I knew Mrs. Warner well--she is
the patient to whom I have already referred--I did not know her
messenger.

"I am a servant in the house where she was taken ill."

"Then she is not at home?"

"No, sir, she is in Second Avenue."

"I am very sorry," I began, "but I have not the time----"

But he interrupted eagerly: "There is a carriage at the door; we
thought you might not have your phaeton ready."

I had noticed the carriage. "Very well," said I. "I will go, but
first let me write a line----"

"O sir," the man broke in pleadingly, "do not wait for anything. She
is really very bad, and I heard her calling for you as I ran out of the
house."

"She had her voice then?" I ventured, somewhat distrustful of the whole
thing and yet not knowing how to refuse t