In a little while, for there was no time to be lost, Dr. Jephson drove up to the Forge in a little low phaeton belonging to the Hall, and in which, with his usual promptitude and energy, he intended to spirit off Lucy, bag and baggage, to the side of the helpless invalid who lay in the last degree of weakness, moaning out the name of Lucy so constantly that all could see how strong a hold she had upon his life and love. “Well, Miss Lucy,” said the genial doctor, “are you ready? My horse will not stand long, and,” said he, with great seriousness, “every hour is a dead loss to us in a hand-to-hand fight between life and death.” Lucy was about to repeat the self-evident objections before mentioned, but the doctor interposed,-- “Look here, my dear. You did quite right, and acted with your usual wit and wisdom in sending for me. I have two things to say that, if I know you aright, will help you to decision in a moment. First, Philip Fuller, without your presence and aid, will die. I say it solemnly and truly. Second, _with_ your presence and aid there is another chance, a hope that he may recover. Is that chance to be denied him?” “I must go, father. Here is a plain duty to do,” said she, as she kissed his anxious and dubious face, and clasped her arms lovingly around his neck, “and duty must be done. Consequences must be left with God, and you and I are used to leaving them there, aren’t we?” “Go, my darling, and God be with you,” said Nathan Blyth. Hastily gathering together such needful articles of personal attire as were requisite for a brief visit, Lucy took her seat beside her good friend, the doctor, and in a few minutes was far on her way to Waverdale Hall. “I do not know,” said the doctor, as they rode through the frosty air, “whether you are aware that the squire told me of Master Philip’s attachment to yourself. If I had not known of it I should many days ago have sent for you, simply as a most skilful and all-effective nurse for despondent invalids. The awkward revelation made me defer it for your sake; but my deliberate conclusion is that he is pining away under the influence of a hopeless passion or some bitter grief. I do not think the matter of Black Morris has much to do with it; he never mentions it, neither do I apprehend much difficulty in proving him innocent of that charge. Hence, though it is a sad strain to put upon you, Miss Lucy, I am bound to bring the only physician that understands the patient’s case.” “Thank you, Dr. Jephson, for your thought for me,” said Lucy. “God knows I would rather have been spared this new and cruel test; but I know where to go for help, and my father’s God and mine will help me through.”