But Dr. Remy's thoughts had long since strayed away from any channel into which the sermon was calculated to lead them. There had been some brief moments, during its delivery, to be sure, when he had shrunken inwardly, iron-nerved though he were, from the deep, sharp probing of certain of its sentences; and there had been a single instant, perhaps, wherein he had been made dimly to see, or to suspect, that his own life and character--much as he had prided himself upon being the independent artificer of them both--were really the results to which he had been holden by the cords of former, half-forgotten sins. But he had made haste to shake himself free from both the idea and its effect, with one smile of scorn at his own folly, and another at what he chose to consider the weak superstition of the clergyman and his awed, interested flock. He thanked God--using the phrase in a vague, general sense which, perhaps, was only equivalent to thanking himself--that he was not as these men were. And no sooner was he in the open air than he set his busy mind to the consideration of his own projects. Some clue to its workings may perhaps be afforded by the question with which he finally broke the silence. "Have you ever had the yellow fever, Arling?" "No; it does not visit our western villages." "Then, I advise you to take refuge in one of them, for the next three months. It is certain to visit Berganton ere long." "Indeed!" said Bergan, with more curiosity than alarm. "Why do you think so?" "From the weather, the atmosphere, the present type of disease,--a dozen indications patent to the eye of experience. Besides, I am informed by a private letter that it has already appeared in New Orleans. Its arrival here is but a question of time. And I assure you that its acquaintance is to be avoided." "Doubtless. And I shall do my best to avoid it--except by running away." "You might as well say," answered Doctor Remy, dryly, "that you will take every precaution against drowning--except to keep your head above water. Don't be fool-hardy, Arling. Yellow Jack has a keen appetite for strangers,--that is to say, for all who are not native born. If he spares any, it is usually the sickly and feeble, not the strong and vigorous. He would consider you a toothsome morsel. Take my advice, and go home, or go North, or take a sea-voyage,--do anything rather than remain here during the last of summer and the beginning of autumn. It will be no loss to you. After the first of next month, there will be absolutely nothing for a lawyer to do here but try to keep cool." "And you?" asked Bergan. "Oh, I stay, of course. An epidemic is a physician's harvest time. Besides, I have had the yellow fever." "Then the native-born do not all escape?" "By no means. Besides, I lost my birthright by many years' absence in Europe. It was immediately after my return that I was taken. Now I may consider myself acclimated."