“I suppose he will not even look at me, after what has happened; but I assure you Mr. Birch is still dear to me as a friend.” “Julia is very sick. I am glad you have come on her account. My mother is not satisfied with Dr. White.” “Miss Hungerford sick! I am sorry for that--very sorry;” and with the utmost tenderness he asked the particulars of her illness, which Eugene gave him. “I am afraid it is too late to break up the fever. I will see her.” Dr. Bilks went to Julia’s chamber. We must do him the justice to say that nothing could be more tender, delicate, and judicious, than his conduct in the sick room. He examined his patient with the nicest care; but he was compelled to inform Mrs. Hungerford that nothing could prevent her daughter from having a regular run of typhoid fever. More than this, he was magnanimous towards Dr. White; for, whether he knew anything about it or not, he assured her that the medical attendant had done all that any physician could do. His treatment had been proper and judicious; but Julia’s health had been impaired by her travel in Europe, and by the excitement in which she had lived since her return. Julia was very sick; and while Dr. Bilks promised well, he had some doubts in regard to the result. If Mrs. Hungerford was not satisfied, he hoped she would call in other medical advice. Eugene was not satisfied, and the two doctors from the Mills came, in the afternoon, to consult with Dr. Bilks. All that had been done was approved, and the patient’s condition, though dangerous, was not critical. Pine Hill was filled with anxiety. Gloomy forebodings hung over the house. Mrs. Hungerford wept over her fair daughter, prostrate before her, perhaps never again to rise, and mother and brother prayed that God would avert the threatened blow. CHAPTER XXI. THE DEMIGOD OF PINE HILL. Dr. Bilks spent most of the day and all the night at Pine Hill. His presence inspired Mrs. Hungerford with courage and fortitude. He was regarded as a very skilful physician in Poppleton, and the heart distressed by doubts and fears clings to such a man, when the loved one lies low on the bed of disease and suffering, with a tenacity which no other relation can call forth. The physician seems to hold the issues of life and death in his hands. His mistake or his neglect is fatal. Mrs. Hungerford was a religious woman; but while she trusted in God, she leaned also on the human arm of the physician. With God’s blessing, he might save her daughter from the yawning tomb. Whether by choice or accident he had come to the sick bed of Julia, he was the mother’s only earthly hope; he was the greatest among men in those hours of gloom and despondency; he was the appointed minister of God to ward off the shaft of death. Everything depended upon him. Ross Kingman, Mary, and Dick Birch were forgotten in the all-absorbing solicitude with which the fond mother hung over the sick daughter.