Her brother turned slowly and went out, thereby confessing, his sister thought, that Winthrop had been as bad as a sermon to him.

As he went out he saw a girl just mounting the stairs.

“Is Mr. Landholm in?” she said putting her head over the balusters.

“I don’t know, my girl —­ I think he may be.”

“I’ll know before long,” she rejoined, taking the stairs at a rate that shewed she meant what she said.  Like no client at law that ever sought his lawyer’s chambers, on any errand.  Before Mr. Inchbald had reached the first landing, she was posted before the desired door, and had tapped there with very alert fingers.  Winthrop opened the door.

“Clam!” —­ said he. —­ “Come in.”

“Mr. Winthrop,” said Clam, coming in as slowly as she had mounted the stairs fast, and speaking with unusual deliberation, and not in the least out of breath, —­ “don’t you want to help the distressed?”

“What’s the matter, Clam?”

“Why Mr. Haye’s took, and Miss ’Lizabeth’s all alone with him; and she’s a little too good to be let die of fright and worry, if she ain’t perfect.  Few people are.”

“All alone!”

“She’s keeping house with him all alone this minute.”

“What do you mean by all alone?”

“When there ain’t but two people in the house and one o’ them’s deathly sick.”

“Where are the servants? and Mrs. Haye?”

“They was all afraid they’d be took —­ she and them both; so they all run —­ the first one the best feller.  I stayed, ’cause I thought the yaller fever wouldn’t do much with one o’ my skin; and anyhow it was as good to die in the house as in the street —­ I’d rather.”

“When did they go?” said Winthrop beginning to put up books and papers.

“Cleared out this mornin’ —­ as soon as they knowed what was the matter with Mr. Haye.”

“His wife too?” said Winthrop.

“Not she! she went off for fear she’d be scared —­ years ago.”

“Has Miss Haye sent for no friends?”

“She says there ain’t none to send to; and I guess there ain’t.”

“Run home to your mistress, Clam, as fast as you can. —­ When was Mr. Haye taken sick?”

“Some time yesterday.  Then you’re comin’, Mr. Winthrop?”

“Yes.  Run.”

Clam ran home.  But quick as her speed had been, when she got the handle of the door in her hand she saw a figure that she knew, coming down the street; and waited for him to come up.  Winthrop and she passed into the house together.

The gentleman turned into one of the deserted parlours; and Clam with a quick and soft step ran up stairs and into the sick room.  Mr. Haye lay there unconscious.  Elizabeth was sitting by the side of the bed, with a face of stern and concentrated anxiety.

“Here’s the stuff,” said Clam, setting some medicine on the table; —­ “and there’s a gentleman down stairs that wants to see you, Miss ’Lizabeth —­ on business.”