Her hair, which was a beautiful auburn, curled over her forehead in little natural rings, and her eyes were strangely bright. She looked as if she had just recovered from illness, and was not physically strong, but there was a look of tremulous happiness in her face. When she said "the Rev. Mr. Thorburn," her voice was musically lowered, and her gray eyes became radiant. Priscilla took all this in at a glance. She was some woman whom Thorburn had befriended, and who had come to him to lay down her load of gratitude at his feet. "Yes," said Priscilla, with ready politeness; "just down the road, the first house to the left. You will have to wait an hour or two, perhaps, though, for Mr. Thorburn. He is seldom in before half past-six. I am Mrs. Thorburn, you see," she said, smiling. The stranger looked at her for a moment with a kind of wide-eyed horror, and, throwing her arms up in the air, fell prone on the ground as if she had received a pistol shot through the heart. Priscilla had never been brought face to face with any startling emergencies during her quiet life. She stood for a moment frozen with terror, and then ran like a deer across to where Dr. Forman stood giving some directions to his man. "Oh, doctor, come! run as fast as you can." She pointed to the prostrate figure lying in the muddy road. Dr. Forman gave one glance, and started at a smart pace, Priscilla keeping up with him, and telling him breathlessly what had occurred. The doctor bent down, turned the unfortunate woman over on her back, and said two words, "Dead faint." "Can't I do something?" said Priscilla, hovering near. "Yes. Go and tell Sam to come here at once, and then go home yourself. You'll have another touch of rheumatism if you go out in this weather. I shall speak to Thorburn about it."