“It has been reported that Coleman’s daughter is a young female not without a certain degree of attractiveness. It may perhaps, my dear Thomas, be some day of service to me and to the church if you were to inform me whether you have observed any tendencies towards familiarity between George and this person. I need not at the present moment give you my reasons for this inquiry. It will be sufficient to say that I have nothing more in view than the welfare of the flock which Divine Providence has committed to my charge.” Mr. Thomas did his duty, and a letter was received by his father on the following Tuesday, which was carefully locked up in the drawer in which the sermons were preserved. The next day—that is to say, on Wednesday—George was at work, as usual, when his little maid came to say that her mistress was very bad, and would he go home directly? She had been unwell for some days, but it was not thought that there was anything serious the matter with her. George followed the girl at once, and found Priscilla in bed with a violent headache and very feverish. The doctor came, and pronounced it a case of “low fever,” a disease well enough known in Cowfold. Let us make the dismal story as brief as possible. Nurse Barton, hearing of her “dear boy’s” trouble, presented herself uninvited that evening at ten o’clock, and insisted that George should not sit up. She remained in the house, notwithstanding Mrs. Broad’s assurances that she really was not wanted, and watched over Priscilla till the end came. About a week afterwards, just when Priscilla seemed to be getting a little better—she had been delirious, but her senses had returned—and Mrs. Allen, who had been in the house all day, had departed, a change for the worse took place, and the doctor was summoned. George, sitting in the parlour alone, heard Nurse Barton come downstairs. “My dear boy,” she said as she entered, “God in His mercy strengthen you in this trial as He has laid upon you, but I thought I’d just come and tell you myself. The doctor wor a-comm’, but I said ‘No; my boy shall hear it from me.’ I don’t think as your wife will get better; she don’t seem to pull herself up a bit. She a’nt got no strength no more than a fly. You’d better see her, I think.” “Who is there?” “Her mother and the doctor.” “Can’t you get rid of them?” “All right, my dear. I must stay with you both, but you won’t mind me—God bless you!” and the woman put her arms round George’s neck and kissed him tenderly.