"Yes, but one forgets that she is there--or anywhere. She seems as if she were an accident." "And the young lord?" "The young lord affects the democratic." Such conversations were not uncommon, and Mrs. Moran could not with any prudence put a sudden stop to them. They kept Cornelia full of wondering irritation, and gradually drove the doubt into her soul--the doubt of her lover's sincerity which was the one thing she could not fight against. It loosened all the props of life; she ceased to struggle and to hope. The world went on, but Cornelia's heart stood still; and at the end of the third week things came to this--her father looked at her keenly one morning and sent her instantly to bed. At the last the breakdown had come in a night, but it had found all ready for it. "She has typhoid, or I am much mistaken," he said to the anxious mother. "Why have you said nothing to me? How has it come about? I have heard no complaining. To have let things go thus far without help is dreadful--it is almost murder." "John! John! What could I do? She could not bear me to ask after her health. She said always that she was not sick. She would not hear of my speaking to you. I thought it was only sorrow and heart-ache." "Only sorrow and heart-ache. Is not that enough to call typhoid or any other death? What is the trouble? Oh I need not ask, I know it is that young Hyde. I feel it. I saw this trouble coming; now let me know the whole truth." He listened to it with angry amazement. He said he ought to have been told at the time--he threw aside all excuses--for being a man how could he understand why women put off, and hope, and suffer? He was sure the rascal ought to have been brought to explanation the very first day:--and then he broke down and wept his wife's tears, and echoed all her piteous moan for her daughter's wronged love and breaking heart. "What is left us now, is to try and save her dear life," said the miserable father. "Suffering we cannot spare her. She must pass alone through the Valley of the Shadow; but it may be she will lose this sorrow in its dreadful paths. I have known this to happen often; for THERE the soul has to strip itself of all encumbrances, and fight for life, and life only." This was the battle waged in Doctor Moran's house for many awful weeks. The girl lay at Death's door, and her father and mother watched every breath she drew. One day, while she was in extremity, the Doctor went himself to the apothecary's for medicine. This medicine was his last hope and he desired to prepare it himself. As he came out of the store with it in his hand, Hyde looked at him with a steady imploration. He had evidently been waiting his exit. "Sir!" he said, "I have heard a report that I cannot, I dare not believe." "Believe the worst--and stand aside, sir. I have neither patience nor words for you." "I beseech you, sir--" "Touch me not! Out of my sight! Broadway is not wide enough for us two, unless you take the other side."