."

"Ay--if we can do anything more," repeated he, as we again recrossed
the boundary-line, and entered the Tod country.

All was quiet there. The kitchen fire burnt brightly, and a cricket
sang in merry solitude on the hearth; the groans overhead were stilled,
but we heard low talking, and presently stealthy footsteps crept
down-stairs. It was Mrs. Tod and Miss March.

We ought to have left the kitchen: I think John muttered something to
that effect, and even made a slight movement towards the door; but--I
don't know how it was--we stayed.

She came and stood by the fire, scarcely noticing us. Her fresh cheeks
were faded, and she had the weary look of one who has watched for many
hours. Some sort of white dimity gown that she wore added to this
paleness.

"I think he is better, Mrs. Tod--decidedly better," said she, speaking
quickly. "You ought to go to bed now. Let all the house be quiet. I
hope you told Mr.--Oh--"

She saw us, stopped, and for the moment the faintest tinge of her roses
returned. Presently she acknowledged us, with a slight bend.

John came forward. I had expected some awkwardness on his part; but
no--he was thinking too little of himself for that. His
demeanour--earnest, gentle, kind--was the sublimation of all manly
courtesy.

"I hope, madam"--young men used the deferential word in those days
always--"I do hope that Mr. March is better. We were unwilling to
retire until we had heard."

"Thank you! My father is much better. You are very kind," said Miss
March, with a maidenly dropping of the eyes.

"Indeed he is kind," broke in the warm-hearted Mrs. Tod. "He rode all
the way to S----, his own self, to fetch the doctor."

"Did you, sir? I thought you only lent your horse."

"Oh! I like a night-ride. And you are sure, madam, that your father is
better? Is there nothing else I can do for you?"

His sweet, grave manner, so much graver and older than his years,
softened too with that quiet deference which marked at once the man who
reverenced all women, simply for their womanhood--seemed entirely to
reassure the young lady. This, and her own frankness of character,
made her forget, as she apparently did, the fact that she was a young
lady and he a young gentleman, meeting on unacknowledged neutral
ground, perfect strangers, or knowing no more of one another than the
mere surname.

Nature, sincerity, and simplicity conquered all trammels of formal
custom. She held out