Mrs. Brewster opened her mouth to reply, but closed it again; strange words had been hovering upon her lips. “If Charles Taylor had not been blind his choice would have fallen upon Mary Ann, not upon Janey.” In her heart there was a sore topic of resentment; for she fully appreciated the advantages of a union with the Taylors. Those words were swallowed down to give utterance to others. “Janey is in the house, and therefore must be liable to take the fever; whether she takes the infection or not, I cannot fence her around with an air-tight 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, Mrs. Brewster; at any rate, I would 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 step into his buggy when he saw Charles Taylor advancing with a quick step. “Which of them is it that is seized?” he inquired as he came up. “Not Janey, thank goodness,” replied the doctor. “It is Mary Ann; I have been persuading the madam to send Janey from home; I should send her were she a daughter of mine.” “Is Mary Ann likely to have it dangerously?” “I think she will. Is there any necessity for you going to the house just now, Mr. Taylor?” Charles Taylor 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 the doctor drove on. Janey saw him and came running out. “Oh! Charles, don’t come in; do not come.” His only answer was to take her upon his arm and enter. He raised the drawing-room window, that as much air might circulate through the house as was possible, and stood at it with her holding her before him. “Janey, what am I to do with you?” “To do with me? What should you do with me, Charles?” “Do you know, my dear, that I cannot afford to let this danger touch you?” “I am not afraid,” she gently said. 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, Janey. I should like to take you far from this fever-tainted town; will you come?” She looked up at him with a smile, the color coming into her cheeks. “How could I, Charles?” Anxious thoughts were passing through the mind of Charles Taylor. We cannot put aside the conventionalities of life, though there are times when they press upon us as an iron weight; he would have given his own life almost to have taken Janey 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. He would fain have carried her to some sea-breezed town and watch over her and guard her there until the danger should be over. None would