“Sad soul, long harboring fears and woes
Within a haunted breast. 
Haste but to meet your lowly Lord,
And he shall give you rest.

“Into his commonwealth alike
Are ills and blessings thrown. 
Bear you your neighbors’ loads; and

* * * * *

“Yield only up His price, your heart,
Into God’s loving hold,—­
He turns with heavenly alchemy
Your lead of life to gold.

“Some needful pangs endure in peace,
Nor yet for freedom pant,—­
He cuts the bane you cleave to off,
Then ...”

The rest was torn away. “‘And,’” repeated I, impatiently,—­“‘Then’! ’And—­then’—­what?” There was no answer, or at least I heard none; but the verses, so far as they went, struck my excited fancy as a kind of preternatural confirmation of the faint outline of life and duty which I had been sketching.  I marked the date of the day upon the white margin with my pencil, and took the paper with me as a memento of the time and place, trimmed its torn edges carefully, and laid it in Fanny’s little Bible.

CHAPTER V.

The next morning, at breakfast, Dr. Physick said:  “You did me a good office, Katy, by singing me to sleepiness last night.  I was as tired as a dog,—­no, as a whole pack of Esquimaux dogs,—­and, instead of lying awake and saying to myself, every time I turned over, ’What in this wide world am I ever going to do with that poor little Nelly Fader?’ I only repeated, whenever I came to myself a little, ’Nelly Bligh shuts her eye when she goes to sleep’; and then I followed her example.”

“I only wish,” said I, “that there was any good office beside that I could do you.”

“Well, now I think of it, there is one that I should be very much obliged to you to do, to me and Nelly Fader besides.  I’ve got to hurry off in the direction opposite to her Uncle Wardour’s; and you talked of walking.  Take this paper.  Empty it into a wine-bottle.  Fill it up with spring-water.  Cork it.  Gum these directions on it.  Take them to Nelly.  Read them to her, and make her understand them if you can, and follow them, which I can’t.  I happen to have a better sample of the drug than is often in the market; and she may as well have the benefit of it.  Her aunt’s a goose, and she’s a baby.  But, as she’s likely to be a suffering baby for some time to come, we must try to have patience, and take extra pains with her.”

“Is she going to die?” asked I, anxiously.

“No, no!  I’ve no idea she is.  No such good luck, poor little victim! ‘Only nervous,’ as people say.  I can’t find out that there’s much else the matter.  I utterly hate these cases.  She ought to be under the care of a sensible woman; and if there only was such a one in the profession, I’d guarantee her her hands full of patients out of my practice alone.”

“A female physician!” cried I, in horror.