As Haldane was leaving the house Dr. Orton drove to the door. Before he could alight the young man climbed into his buggy with almost desperate haste. "Drive toward the city," he said so decisively that the doctor obeyed. "What's the matter, Haldane? Speak, man; you look sick." "Take me to the city hospital. I am sick." "I shall take you right back to Mrs. Poland's," said the doctor, pulling up. Haldane laid his hands on the reins, and then explained his fears and the motive for his action. "God bless you, old fellow; but you are right. Any effort now would cost Amy her life, and she would make it if you were there. But you are not going to the hospital." Dr. Orton's intimate acquaintance with the city enabled him to place Haldane in a comfortable room near his own house, where he could give constant supervision to his case. He also procured a good nurse, whose sole duty was to take care of the young man. To the anxious questioning of Mrs. Poland and Amy from time to time, the doctor maintained the fiction, saying that Haldane was watching a very important case under his care; "and you know his way," added the old gentleman, rubbing his hands, as if he were enjoying something internally, "he won't leave a case till I say it's safe, even to visit you, of whom he speaks every chance he gets;" and thus the two ladies in their feeble state were saved all anxiety. They at length learned of the merciful ruse that had been played upon them by the appearance of their friend at their door in Dr. Orton's buggy. As the old physician helped his patient, who was still rather weak, up the steps, he said with his hearty laugh: "Haldane has watched over that case, that he and I told you of, long enough. We now turn the case over to you, Miss Amy. But all he requires is good living, and I'll trust to you for that. He's a trump, if he is a Yankee. But drat him, I thought he'd spoil the joke by dying, at one time." The sentiments that people like Mrs. Poland and her daughter, Mrs. Arnot, and Laura, would naturally entertain toward one who had served them as Haldane had done, and at such risk to himself, can be better imagined than portrayed. They looked and felt infinitely more than they were ever permitted to say, for any expression of obligation was evidently painful to him. He speedily gained his old vigor, and before the autumn frosts put an end to the epidemic, was able to render Dr. Orton much valuable assistance. Amy became more truly his sister than ever his own had been to him. Her quick intuition soon discovered his secret--even the changing expression of his eyes at the mention of Laura's name would have revealed it to her--but he would not let her speak on the subject. "She belongs to another," he said, "and although to me she is the most beautiful and attractive woman in the world, it must be my lifelong effort not to think of her."