"Ethel is in the house; and therefore must be liable to infection, whether she visits the room or not. I cannot fence her round with a wall, so that not a breath of tainted atmosphere shall touch her. I would if I could; but I cannot." "I would send her from the house, Lady Sarah. At any rate, I forbid her to go near her sister. I don't want two patients on my hands, instead of one," he added in his quaint fashion, as he took his departure. He was about to get into his gig, when he saw Mr. Godolphin advancing with a quick step. "Which of them is it who is seized?" inquired the latter, as he came up. "Not Ethel, thank goodness!" responded the surgeon. "It is Sarah Anne. I have been recommending my lady to send Ethel from home. I should send her, were she a daughter of mine." "Is Sarah Anne likely to have it dangerously?" "I think so. Is there any necessity for you going to the house just now, Mr. Godolphin?" Thomas Godolphin smiled. "There is no necessity for my keeping away. I do not fear the fever any more than you do." He passed into the garden as he spoke, and Mr. Snow drove away. Ethel saw him, and came out to him. "Oh, Thomas, do not come in! do not come!" His only answer was to take her on his arm and enter. He threw open the drawing-room window, that as much air might circulate through the house as possible, and stood there with her, holding her before him. "Ethel! what am I to do with you?" "To do with me! What should you do with me, Thomas?" "Do you know, my darling, that I cannot _afford_ to let this danger touch you?" "I am not afraid," she gently whispered. He knew that: she had a brave, unselfish heart. But he was afraid for her, for he loved her with a jealous love; jealous of any evil that might come too near her. "I should like to take you out of the house with me now, Ethel. I should like to take you far from this fever-tainted town. Will you come?" She looked up at him with a smile, the colour rising to her face. "How could I, Thomas!" Anxious thoughts were passing through the mind of Thomas Godolphin. We cannot put aside the _convenances_ of life; though there are times when they press upon us with an iron weight. He would have given almost his own life to take Ethel from that house: but how was he to do it? No friend would be likely to receive her: not even his own sisters: they would have too much dread of the infection she might bring with her. He would fain have carried her off to some sea-breezed town, and watch over her and guard her there, until the danger should be over. None would have protected her more honourably than Thomas Godolphin. But--those _convenances_ that the world has to bow down to! how would the step have agreed with them? Another thought, little less available for common use, passed through his mind.