"In my papers of the past week the beginning of what concerned Notely Garrison was a medley. 'Reformer,' 'The old never-heeded cry of a St. John in the wilderness,' and again, from the other side, 'Fanatic,' 'Visionary,' 'Throwing out his by no means boundless wealth like water for the sake of chimeras, ideally noble enough, but still vain chimeras!' And the news at the week's end, 'Young Garrison stricken: a shock. Overwork, over-excitement, and the result of an accident suffered not long since. Recovery very doubtful.'" "I want to go to him," said Vesty. I heard her breath coming painfully and quick. "I knew that. I have already made arrangements for you to leave early in the morning." "Just to see him. I promised him. Notely! Notely! I can't bear it--just as though it was little Gurd." "You shall see him by to-morrow night. I have sent a messenger to make special arrangements for conveyance, in case you should desire this." "Major Henry, I forgot. I cannot; I have no money." "Ah, but you can and must. It is arranged." "And I do not know the way. I was never from the Basin." "I am going with you. In my country high ladies travel with a servant, thus. Get what rest you can and be ready at four. They will take good care of little Gurd while you are gone." "Some time," said Vesty, on the morrow, "when Gurd is a little older, and I can take him away somewhere where I can earn wages, I can pay you, Major Henry. They want me now--his mother wants me, somehow, I know." "You are safe to think that." "My clothes are not like theirs," said Vesty quietly, when we came at night more and more into the throngs of civilized life. "Do you mind? I knew that I should not be dressed like them." "In my country high ladies wear what they will." She gave a low, perplexed laugh, looking at me with curious sorrow for my hallucinations. "But I am only Vesty." "Surely. But you remind me so of a lady." At least Vesty travelled as a princess might. I brought her the long and devious journey swiftly, with as little fatigue as possible: but it was late at night when we mounted the steps of the Garrison town residence; the house was all alight. Mrs. Garrison brushed past the servant at the door. "Vesty Rafe! I knew it was you. I knew you would come, somehow, child." She drew her in, and fell on her neck, weeping. "He is dying?" murmured Vesty then, with cold lips. "He has not spoken since the shock. He does not know us; but it may be he will know you! Come!" Servants from the doorways of the wide, rich hall were staring strangely at Vesty and at me. Vesty turned to me now, to consider me. I gave her the warning look. "I came to show Vesty the way," I said in simple Basin speech. "I will go to my hotel. I will call." The girl's sad eyes looked reproach at me, but she obeyed me. "Wait," she said then; "I want to speak with Major Henry." She came to me in the door. "When will you come back?" she murmured, low.