She walked slowly down one street, and up another, but saw no announcement of "Lodgings to Let." Then she fancied all the houses were reeling, and the sky closing in upon her. The next moment they were steady again, and she was standing, looking wildly around. Again she walked on a little farther, and then became sick, faint and giddy. "This is something more than the want of sleep," she said to herself. "I am ill. I cannot walk--I cannot stand. Everything is reeling around me." Suddenly her eyes fell on a brass plate on the door of a house quite near--"Dr. Chalmers." "I will consult him," she thought. "Perhaps he can prescribe something that will take this dreadful feeling away." She went up the little flight of steps and knocked. Then it seemed as though the door were falling on her, and she seized one of the iron railings to save herself from falling. A neat maid-servant opened the door. "Is Dr. Chalmers at home?" asked Hyacinth; and the sound of her voice struck her as being so strange that she hardly knew it. "Yes, miss," was the smiling reply. "I wish to see him," said Hyacinth. "What name shall I give?" asked the maid. "None--I am quite a stranger." She was shown into the surgery, and sat down on a large low lounge. A strange drowsy calm came over her. She pulled off her hat and veil, and laid back her tired head on the cushion. Some few minutes elapsed before Dr. Chalmers entered the surgery; and when he did so, he started back in wonder that was half alarm. There on the lounge sat a girl, quite young, and lovely as a vision. The whole face, so white and rigid, was peacefully beautiful--he had never seen anything like it before. A profusion of golden hair had fallen over the cushions, and two little white hands were clasped convulsively together. Dr. Chalmers went a few steps nearer, and then his professional instinct told him that this was no sleep. The girl seemed perfectly unconscious. He spoke to her, and she seemed to arouse partially, and sat up, gazing before her in a dazed, vacant way. Her little hands fell helplessly upon her lap, and she seemed wholly unconscious of the presence of another in the room. The good doctor looked at her in anxious alarm. He spoke to her once, twice, thrice. She did not hear him. The doctor was wondering what he should do, when she started up with a loud cry. "He is innocent--he is quite innocent. Oh, shall I be in time to save him?" She sprung toward the door, but never reached it, for, with a low moaning cry, she fell senseless on the floor. He raised her and laid her on the couch, and then opened the door hastily and went to the foot of the stairs. "Mother," he called, "will you come down? I want you at once!" A kindly-looking lady with a pleasant, comely face entered the room. "Look here," said Dr. Robert Chalmers, pointing to the white figure. "What are we to do, mother?"