“There is something in the wind,” she thought, as she carried Morris’ name to Katy, who did not seem to hear, or if she did, she paid no heed, but talked of the blinding snow, and the grave in St. Mary’s churchyard, which was no grave at all.

Her manner, more than her looks, frightened the girl, who retreated down the stairs, meeting Morris in the hall, and saying as she grasped his arm: 

“You are a doctor, Dr. Grant.  Come, then, to Mrs. Cameron.  She is taken out of her head, and talks so queer and raving.”

Morris had expected this, but he was not prepared to find the fever so high, or the symptoms so alarming.

“Shall I send for Mrs. Cameron and another doctor, please?” Esther asked.

Morris had faith in himself, and he would rather no other hand should minister to Katy; but he knew he could not stay there long, for there were those at home who needed his services.  Added to this, her family physician might know her constitution now better than he knew it, and so he answered that it would be well to send for both the doctor and Mrs. Cameron.

It was growing dark now in the city, and the shadows were stealing into the room where Morris sat down to wait for other counsel and the arrival of Mrs. Cameron.  To the servants in the kitchen Esther stated, with a very matter-of-course air, that her mistress had come home, feeling sick, and that as she seemed getting worse, she was to send to Madam Cameron, adding that it was a piece of great good luck that Dr. Grant, from Silverton, who was her cousin, happened to be in the city, and had called just when he was needed the most.

“He was the doctor whom Jamie talked so much about,” she said; “the doctor whom the family met in Paris,” dwelling so long on Dr. Grant and discussing him so volubly that Phillips and the other servants lost sight entirely of what had struck them a little oddly, to wit:  that Mrs. Wilford should leave Father Cameron’s if she was so very sick.

It was Esther who met Mrs. Cameron in the hall, conducting her into the parlor and adopting a different style of argument with her from that used in the basement.  “Mrs. Wilford was not well when her husband went away; but of course he thought nothing of it, neither did she—­Esther—­until to-day, when she came in from the street, looking very badly, and going directly to her bed, where she had been growing worse ever since.”

“Yes,” and Mrs. Cameron beat her foot thoughtfully.  “I wish I had called yesterday.  I did speak of it, fearing she would be lonely.”

“I dare say she was,” Esther replied, never changing color in the least, although somewhat afraid she was being driven to the wall.  “She seemed downcast all the morning, but went about noon.  I thought maybe she would call on you.”

“I wish she had,” Mrs. Cameron replied, and then Esther told her how providential it was that a Dr. Grant from Silverton happened to come to New York that very day.  Of course he called upon his cousin, first sending up his card, and then going himself when told that Mrs. Cameron was out of her head and did not understand who was waiting to see her.