"Sick man at the camp. The doctor from the Mills hez jest been ter see him, but said he couldn't do nothin' fur him; reckoned he'd be a goner before mornin'." "Sho! Who is it?" "A feller by the name o' Seth Hardin'; boss in some lumber-consarn daown-river; stopped ter the camp over-night on his way up ter Grand Falls, 'n' was took with fever 'n' ravin' like a muskeeter 'fore mornin'." Drusy's face, which was rosy and smiling as she stood watching the movements of a contra-dance, suddenly blanched, and she grasped a wooden pillar as if for support. Her very lips were white. "What's the matter, Drusy?" said Wetherbee, in a tone of gentle solicitude. She beckoned him aside. "Reube," said she, the color surging into her cheeks again, "I must go out to Fernald's camp. I must go at once. Oh, Reube! could you take me there? Tom's gone over to the Point after his aunt Harriet with our team, and there's no knowing when he'll get back. I _can't_ wait! I _must_ go, this moment!" She clasped her hands tightly together and looked pleadingly up into his face. "Don't hesitate, Reube. That dying man is my husband." "Your husband!" he exclaimed, with a strange flash in his mild blue eyes, and with a pallor which almost equalled her own overspreading his face for an instant. "I don't think you'd better set out for Fernald's camp to-night, Drusy, 'Tis fifteen miles at the shortest, over the worst road in the county. But if you think you must" (he glanced at Henrietta Blaisdell, who was looking reproachfully at him, in all her bravery of black silk), "I--I might find somebody to take you. Maybe the boy over to Scott's stable, he'd know the way." Drusy gave him a look which he did not soon forget. Was there not more in it than baffled endeavor, than disappointed trust? Poor John Barker saw it, and it lingered in his mind also. It was continually flashing before his vision for years. "Drusy," said John, "I hadn't no notion o' spyin' on yeou, but I was a-standin' where I couldn't help overhearin' what yeou said. Yeou looked kinder faint, 'n'-- Lemme take yeou ter Fernald's camp. I hain't got nothin' to stop here fur, 'n' I kin git my hoss harnessed in a jiffy. Some o' the fellers from eour camp rid in weth me, but they kin git a chance on other teams,--'n' if not, they kin walk. I hain't got nothin' but a hoss-sled to offer ye, but I guess I kin make it comfortable." "Don't speak of that, John: I shan't forget your kindness in a hurry," said Drusy, with trembling lip. The dance went on with jocund carelessness. Wetherbee disappeared with a flushed and frowning countenance. The horse-sled glided swiftly along over the crisp white road. The hills were showing their barren beauty to the last look of the moon, which was sinking slowly out of sight. Sudden gleams of silver by the wayside betrayed the abiding-place of frozen streams. A tall maple-tree lifted its bare branches to the sky, like skeleton fingers clutching a star.