If she was so weak, she was not able to work, Helen said, proposing that the plan be for the present abandoned; but to this Marian would not listen; her great eager eyes had in them so scared a look that Helen said no more on that subject, but made arrangements for her coming to them at once. Morris was to leave his patient some medicine, and while he was preparing it Helen had time to notice her more carefully, admiring her ladylike manners, and thinking her smile the sweetest she had ever seen. Especially was this the case when it was given to Morris, and Helen felt that in his presence Miss Hazelton was, if possible, softer, sweeter, more gracious than before; and still there was nothing immodest or unwomanly in her manner, nothing but that peculiar air which attractive women sometimes put on before the other sex. She might not have been conscious of it herself; and yet, when once she met Helen's eyes as she was smiling gratefully upon Dr. Morris, there came a sudden change into her face, and she bit her lip with evident vexation. Could it be that she was fascinated by the young physician who had attended her so long, and who, within the last few months, had grown so popular? Helen asked herself this question several times on her way home, and inquired of Morris what he knew of her. "Nothing, except that she came to North Silverton a year ago, opening her shop, and by her faithfulness, and pleasant, obliging manners, winning favor with all who employed her. Previous to her sickness she had a few times attended St. Paul's at South Silverton, that being the church of her choice. Had Helen never observed her?" No, Helen had not. And then she spoke of her fainting, telling how sudden it was and wondering if she was subject to such turns. Marian Hazelton had made a strong impression on Helen's mind, and she talked of her so much that Katy waited her appearance at the farmhouse with feverish anxiety. It was evening when she came, looking very white, and seeming to Helen as if she had changed since she saw her first. In her eyes there was a kind of hopeless, weary expression, while her smile made one almost wish to cry, it was so sad, and yet so strangely sweet. Katy felt its influence at once, growing very confidential with the stranger, who, during the half hour in which they were accidentally left alone, drew from her every particular concerning her intended marriage. Very closely the dark blue eyes scrutinized little Katy, taking in first the faultless beauty of her face, and then going away down into the inmost depths of her character, as if to find out what was there. "Pure, loving, innocent, and unsuspecting," was Marian Hazelton's verdict, and she followed wistfully every movement of the young girl as she flitted around the room, chatting as familiarly with the dressmaker as if she were a friend long known instead of an entire stranger.