“O dear!” he half-breathed out. He had for some time been growing nervous about the state of things at Bleaburn; and there was nothing he now liked so little as to be obliged to speak face to face with any of the people. It was not all cowardice; though cowardice made up sadly too much of it. He did not very well know how to address the minds of his people; and he felt that he could not do it well. He was more fit for closet study than for the duties of a parish priest; and he ought never to have been sent to Bleaburn. Here he was, however; and there was Ann Warrender waiting in the passage to speak to him. “Dear me!” said he, “I am really very busy at this moment. Ask Ann Warrender if she can come again to-morrow.” To-morrow would not do. Ann followed the servant to the door of the study to say so. Mr. Finch hastily asked her to wait a moment, and shut the door behind the servant. He unlocked a cupboard, took out a green bottle and a wineglass, and fortified himself against infection with a draught of something whose scent betrayed him to Ann the moment the door was again opened. “Come in,” said he, when the cupboard was locked. “Will you please come, sir, and see John Billiter? He is not far from death; he asked for you just now; so I said I would step for you.” “Billiter! The fever has been very fatal in that house, has it not? Did not he lose two children last week?” “Yes, sir; and my father thinks the other two are beginning to sicken. I’m sure I don’t know what will become of them. I saw Mrs. Billiter stagger as she crossed the room just now; and she does not seem, somehow, to be altogether like herself this morning. That looks as if she were beginning. But if you will come and pray with them, Sir, that is the comfort they say they want.” “Does your father allow you to go to an infected house like that?” asked Mr. Finch. “And does he go himself?” Ann looked surprised, and said she did not see what else could be done. There was no one but her father who could lift John Billiter, or turn him in his bed; and as for her, she was the only one that Mrs. Billiter had to look to, day and night. The Good Lady went in very often, and did all she could; but she was wanted in so many places, besides having her hands full with the Johnsons, that she could only come in and direct and cheer them, every few hours. She desired to be sent for at any time, night or day; and they did send when they were particularly distressed, or at a loss; but for regular watching and nursing, Ann said the Billiters had no one to depend on but herself. She could not stay talking now, however. How soon might she say that Mr. Finch would come? Mr. Finch was now walking up and down the room. He said he would consider, and let her know as soon as he could. “John Billiter is as bad as can be, Sir. He must be very near his end.” “Ah! well; you shall hear from me very soon.”