“This is the best car on the train, Pauline.  I know the noise is very bad, but try to bear it for a little while.  We shall soon be there.”  And so on, through the weary journey.

At one station Richard got out, and I saw him speaking to several men.  I believe he was hoping to find a doctor, for he was thoroughly frightened.

Before we reached the city I was past being frightened for myself, for I was suffering too much to think of what might be the result of my condition.  When we left the cars, and Richard put me in a carriage, the motion of the carriage and its jarring over the stones were almost unendurable.  Richard was too anxious now to say much to me.  The expression of relief on his face as we reached Varick-street was unspeakable.  He hurried up the steps and rang the bell, then came back for me, and half carried me up the steps.

The door was opened by Ann Coddle, who was thrown into a helpless state of amazement by seeing me, not knowing why in this condition I did come, or why I came at all.  She shrieked, and ejaculated, and backed almost down the basement stairs.  Richard sternly told her she was acting like a fool, and ordered her to show him where Miss Pauline’s room was, that he might take her to it.

“But her room isn’t ready,” ejaculated Ann, coming to herself, which was a wretched thing to come to, as poor Richard found.

“Not ready? well, make it ready, then.  Go before me and open the windows, and I will put her on the sofa till you have the bed ready for her.”

“The sofa—­oh, Mr. Richard, it’s all full of her dear clothes that have come up from the wash.”

“Well, then, take them off—­idiot—­and do as you are told.”

“Oh, Miss Pauline—­oh, my poor, dear lamb.  Oh, I’m all in a flutter; I don’t know what to do.  I’d better call the cook.”

“Well, call the cook, then,” said Richard, groaning, “only tell her to be quick.”

All this time Richard was supporting me up the stairs.  As we reached the top, Richard called out, “Tell Peter I want him at once, to take a message for me.”

Ann was watching our progress up the stairs, with groans and ejaculations, forgetting that she was to call the cook.  At the mention of Peter she exclaimed,

“He’s laid up with the rheumatism, Mr. Richard.  Oh, whatever shall we do!”

When we reached the middle of the second pair of stairs, I was almost helpless; Richard took me in his arms, and carried me.

“Is it this door, Pauline dear?” he said, opening the first he came to.

I should think the room had not been opened since I went away, it was so warm and close.

Richard carried me to the sofa, and scattered the lingerie far and wide as he laid me down upon it, and went to open the windows.  Then he went to the bell and pulled it violently.  In a few moments the cook came up (accompanied by Ann).  She was a huge, unwieldy woman, but she had some intelligence, and knew better than to whimper.