"Can I do anything for you, Cornelia? Shall I call your mother?" "No. You may fan me, if you will." She moaned and closed her eyes. Beulah seized a fan, and did as requested, now and then wiping away the moisture which gathered around the lips and forehead. Gradually the paroxysm passed off, and, opening her eyes, she said wearily: "That will do, thank you. Now pour out a glass of water from the pitcher yonder." Beulah handed her the draught, saying, with surprise: "Sitting wrapped up by a fire and drinking ice-water!" "Yes; I use ice-water the year round. Please touch the bellrope, will you?" As Beulah resumed her seat, Cornelia added, with a forced laugh: "You look as if you pitied me." "I do, most sincerely. Do you suffer in this way often?" "Yes--no--well, when I am prudent I don't." Then, turning to the servant, who stood at the door, she continued: "John, go to Dr. Hartwell's office (not his house, mind you), and leave word that he must come here before night. Do you understand? Shut the door-stop! send up some coal!" She drew her chair closer to the fire, and, extending her slippered feet on the marble hearth, said: "I have suffered more during the last three days than in six months before. Last night I did not close my eyes--and Dr. Hartwell must prepare me some medicine. What is the matter with Clara Sanders? She looks like an alabaster image!" "She has never recovered entirely from that attack of yellow fever; and a day or two ago she took cold, and has had constant fever since. I suppose she will see the doctor while I am here. I feel anxious about her." "She looks ethereal, as if refined for a translation to heaven," continued Cornelia musingly; then suddenly lifting her head, she listened an instant, and exclaimed angrily: "It is very strange that I am not to have an hour's peace and enjoyment with you, without--" The door opened, and a graceful form and lovely face approached the fireplace. "Miss Benton, suffer me to introduce my cousin, Miss Dupres," said Cornelia very coldly. The young lady just inclined her head, and proceeded to scan Beulah's countenance and dress, with a degree of cool impertinence which was absolutely amusing. Evidently, however, Cornelia saw nothing amusing in this ill-bred stare, for she pushed a light chair impatiently toward her, saying: "Sit down, Antoinette!" She threw herself into the seat with a sort of languid grace, and said, in the most musical of voices: "Why would not you see Julia Vincent? She was so much disappointed." "Simply and solely because I did not choose to see her. Be good enough to move your chair to one side, if you please," snapped Cornelia.