"Ah, George," cried Archie, "it's lang since I saw ye. How are ye? What!"--starting as if surprised--"have ye been lyin', man--confined--sick?--what, in God's name, has been the matter wi' ye? Some sad complaint, surely, to produce so mighty a change!" This address seemed to George just the very confirmation he now required to make him perfectly satisfied of his danger. It was too much for him to hear and suffer. Staggering back, he leant upon the side of his cart, and drew breath with difficulty, attempting in vain to give his friend some reply. "It's wrang in ye, man," continued Archie, as he saw the carrier labouring to find words to reply to him--"it's wrang in ye, George, to be here in that state o' body. How did Betty permit it? Wha wad guarantee your no lyin' doun an' deein' by the road-side? I'm sure I wadna undertake the suretyship." "I have not been a day confined, Archie," said George, as he slightly recovered from the shock caused by the announcement. "I have not been ill; and left home this morning in my usual health." "Good God!" ejaculated Archie, "is that possible? Then is it sae muckle the waur. I thought it had been a' owre wi' ye--that ye had been ill, an' partly recovered; but now I see the disease is only comin' yet. How deadly pale ye are, man; an' what a strange colour there is on your lips, round the sockets o' your een, an' the edges o' your nostrils!" "I hae been told that the day already, Archie," said George; "I fear there's some truth in't. Yet I feel nae pain; I'm only weak an' nervous." "Ah, ye ken little about fevers o' the putrid kind--typhus, an' the like," continued the other,--"when ye think they show themselves by ordinary symptoms. I had a cousin who died o' typhus last week; an' he looked, when he took it, just as ye look, an' spoke just as ye speak. Tak the advice o' a friend, George. Dinna stop at Widow M'Murdo's; ye can get nae advice there; hurry on to Edinburgh, and apply immediately, on your arrival, to a doctor o' repute. I assure ye a' his skill will be required."