On Monday morning Julius returned from visits to his brothers to find a piteous note from Mrs. Fuller entreating him to undertake two funerals. Her husband had broken down on Sunday morning and was very ill, and Mr. Driver had merely read the services and then joined his pupils, whom he had sent away to the sea-side. He had never been responsible for pastoral care, and in justice to them could not undertake it now. "Those streets are in a dreadful state," wrote the poor lady, "several people dying; and there is such a panic in the neighbourhood that we know not where to turn for help. If you could fix an hour we would let the people know. The doctor insists on the funerals being immediate." Julius was standing in the porch reading this letter, and thinking what hour he could best spare from nearer claims, when he heard the gate swing and beheld his junior curate with a very subdued and sobered face, asking, "Is it true?" "That the fever is here? Yes, it is." "And very bad?" "Poor Frank is our worst case as yet. He is constantly delirious. The others are generally sensible, except that Terry is dreadfully haunted with mathematics." "Then it is all true about the Hall. Any one else ill?" "Only the two Willses. They were carousing at the 'Three Pigeons.' I hope that Raymond's prohibition against that place may have been the saving of the Hall servants. See here," and he gave the note. "I had better take those two funerals. I can at least do that," said Herbert. "That Driver must be a regular case of a hireling." "He never professed that the sheep were his," said Julius. "Then I'll go to the Vicarage and get a list of the sick, and see after them as far as I can," said Herbert, in a grave, humble tone, showing better than a thousand words how he felt the deprivation he had brought on himself; and as to shame or self-consciousness, the need had swallowed them all. "It will be a great act of kindness, Herbert. The point of infection does not seem clear yet, but I am afraid it will be a serious outbreak." "I did not believe it could all be true when the report came to Rood House, but of course I came to hear the truth and see what I could do. How is Mrs. Poynsett bearing up?" "Bravely. Anne contrived our carrying her up-stairs, and it is the greatest comfort to Raymond to lie and look at her, and Susan looks after them both." "Then he can't be so very ill." "Not so acutely, but there are symptoms that make Worth anxious. Shall I give you a note for Mrs. Fuller?" "Do, and put me at your disposal for all you can spare for, or I can do. Have you written to Bindon?"