“Why,” she panted, in mixed reproach and terror, “you're not going away? You're not going to leave me before Bartley is well? He may get worse,--he may die! You mustn't go, Mr. Halleck!” “Yes, I must,--I can't stay,--I oughtn't to stay,--it won't do! He won't get worse, he won't die.” The perspiration broke out on Halleck's face, which he lifted to hers with a distress as great as her own. She only answered, “I can't let you go; it would kill me. I wonder at your wanting to go.” There was something ghastly comical in it all, and Halleck stood in fear of its absurdity hardly less than of its tragedy. He rapidly revolved in his mind the possibilities of the case. He thought at first that it might be well to call a doctor, and, having explained the situation to him, pay him to remain in charge; but he reflected that it would be insulting to ask a doctor to see a man in Hubbard's condition. He took out his watch, and saw that it was six o'clock; and he said, desperately, “You can send for me, if you get anxious--” “I can't let you go!” “I must really get my breakfast--” “The girl will get something for you here! Oh, _don't_ go away!” Her lip began to quiver again, and her bosom to rise. He could not bear it. “Mrs. Hubbard, will you believe what I say?” “Yes,” she faltered, reluctantly. “Well, I tell you that Mr. Hubbard is in no sort of danger; and I know that it would be extremely offensive to him if I stayed.” “Then you must go,” she answered promptly, and opened the door, which she had closed for fear he might escape. “I will send for a doctor.” “No; _don't_ send for a doctor, don't send for anybody don't speak of the matter to any one: it would be very mortifying to him. It's merely a--a--kind of--seizure, that a great many people--men--are subject to; but he wouldn't like to have it known.” He saw that his words were making an impression upon her; perhaps her innocence was beginning to divine the truth. “Will you do what I say?” “Yes,” she murmured. Her head began to droop, and her face to turn away in a dawning shame too cruel for him to see. “I--I will come back as soon as I get my breakfast, to make sure that everything is right.” She let him find his own way out, and Halleck issued upon the street, as miserable as if the disgrace were his own. It was easy enough for him to get back into his own room without alarming the family. He ate his breakfast absently, and then went out while the others were still at table. “I don't think Ben seems very well,” said his mother, anxiously, and she looked to her husband for the denial he always gave. “Oh, I guess he's all right. What's the matter with him?”