Paulina's case was the worst of all. Day by day she sank more and more under the power of the disease, her lucid intervals became fewer, and her delirium worse in its character. Doctor Mercer came to see her twice a day, and sometimes oftener, but all his remedies seemed powerless to arrest the course of the disease. He had become very popular among the poorer class in the city, helped, probably, by the fact that he gave away liberally both advice and medicine, but few of the upper classes employed him, and by most of the medical fraternity, he was denounced in no measured terms. What indeed was to be expected of a man who would have the casements of his patients' rooms opened all day, and sometimes all night, and allowed the sick to drink as much cold water as they desired! "Well, and how is our young lady to-day?" he asked, one morning, of Winifred, as she met him at the door of Paulina's room. "Worse and worse!" said Winifred, with tears in her eyes. "She has not spoken or shown any sign of sense since midnight." "Aye, I think this will be the crisis," said the doctor, as he examined the patient, whose senses now appeared closed to all external impressions, while her sunken features seemed already to have assumed the immobility of death. "You must not be discouraged, however. The case is not yet hopeless so long as she can swallow, but you must watch her carefully, for the next twenty-four hours will decide the question of life or death. I have not seen so bad a case as hers among any of my Protestant patients." "Is the fever, then, worse among the papists?" asked Winifred. "The worst cases I have met with seem to have been among those who were at the new Romish chapel on Ascension-day," replied the doctor. "It seems there was a great crowd, and the heat was intense. I suppose I have had at least twenty cases which originated there, all taken down at once. And, by the way, this young lady was attacked at the very same time. It can hardly be, I suppose, that she was among them?" Winifred thought, with a start, of her aunt's gossip, which had nearly faded from her mind. "I cannot believe it!" said she. "Lady Corbet would never allow such a thing, and I cannot think Mrs. Paulina would deceive her parents. She always went to the early morning prayers at the cathedral, rather against the will of her mother, who, however, permitted it, partly because Mrs. Paulina was delicate, and the walk was thought good for her." "Did she go alone?" asked Doctor Mercer. "No, one of the maids, who lately left us, went with her." "Hath she ever seemed to you to have any burden upon her mind?" "I have sometimes thought so, especially during the two weeks before she was taken ill. But why do you ask, Doctor Mercer? Have you any suspicions?" asked Winifred.