for you and told you all.” “Janey,” he cried, “had you caught the fever I should never have forgiven those who led you into the danger.” “Listen,” said Janey, “mamma is calling.” Mrs. Brewster had been calling to Mr. Taylor. Thinking that she was not heard she came down the stairs and entered the room wringing her hands; her eyes were moist, her sharp thin red nose was redder then ever. “Oh, dear, I don’t know what I shall do with her,” she sobbed. “She is so sick and fretful, Mr. Taylor, nothing will satisfy her now but she must see you.” “See me,” repeated he. “She will,” she says. “I told her you was leaving for Waterville and she burst out crying and said if she was to die she would never see you again, do you mind going in, you are not afraid?” “No, I am not afraid,” said Charles, “the infection can not have remained all this while, and if it had I should not fear it.” Mrs. Brewster led the way upstairs, Charles followed her, Janey came in afterwards. Mary Ann lay in bed, her thin face, drawn and white, raised upon the pillow, her hollow eyes were strained forward with a fixed look. Sick as he had thought her to have been he was hardly prepared to see her like this; and it shocked him. “Why have you never come to see me?” she asked in a hollow voice as he approached and leaned over her, “you would never have come till I died, you only care for Janey.” “I would have come to see you had I known you wished it,” he answered, “but you do not look strong enough to receive visitors.” “They might cure me if they would,” she said, her breath panting, “I want to go away somewhere and that Brown won’t let me; if it were Janey he would cure her.” “He will let you go as soon as you are able,” said Charles. “Why did this fever come to me, why didn’t it go to Janey instead, she is strong and would have got well in no time, that is not fair.” “My dear child you must not excite yourself,” implored her mother. “I will speak,” cried Mary Ann with a touch, feeble though it was, of her peevish vehemence. “Nobody’s thought of but Janey, if you had your way,” looking hard at Mr. Taylor, “she would not have been allowed to come near me, no, not if I had died.” She altered into whimpering tears, her mother whispered to him to leave the room, it would not do, this excitement. “I will come and see you again when you are better,” he soothingly whispered. “No, you won’t,” said Mary Ann, “and I shall be dead when you return, good-by, Charles Taylor.” These last words were called after him as he left the room, her mother went with him to the door, her eyes full, “you see there is no hope of her,” she wailed. Charles did not think there was, it appeared to him that in a few hours, hope for Mary Ann would be over. Janey waited for him in the hall and was leading the way to the drawing-room, but he told her that he could not stay longer and opened the door. “I wish you were not going away,” she said, her spirits being very unequal caused her