When Ellen came in, and after a short greeting to Betsey Hardman, went up-stairs, she found Alfred lying back on his pillow, deadly white, the beads of dew standing on his brow, and his breath in gasps.  She would have shrieked for her mother, but he held out his hand, and said, in a low hoarse whisper, ‘Ellen, is it true?’

‘What, Alfy dear?  What is the matter?’

‘What she says.’

‘Who?  Betsey Hardman?  Dear dear Alf, is it anything dreadful?’

‘That I shall die,’ said Alfred, his eyes growing round with terror again.  ‘That Mr. Blunt said I couldn’t last out the winter.’

‘Dear Alfy, don’t!’ cried Ellen, throwing her arms round him, and kissing him with all her might; ’don’t fancy it!  She’s always gossiping and gadding about, and don’t know what she says, and she’d got no business to tell stories to frighten my darling!’ she exclaimed, sobbing with agitation.  ’I’m sure Mr. Blunt never said no such thing!’

‘But Mother thinks it, Ellen.’

‘She doesn’t, she can’t!’ cried Ellen vehemently; ’I know she doesn’t, or she could never go about as she does.  I’ll call her up and ask her, to satisfy you.’

‘No, no, not while that woman is there!’ cried Alfred, holding her by the dress; ‘I’ll not have her coming up.’

Even while he spoke, however, Mrs. King was coming.  Betsey had spied an old acquaintance on the way from church, and had popped out to speak to her, and Mrs. King caught that moment for coming up.  She understood all, for she had been sitting in great distress, lest Alfred should be listening to every word which she was unable to silence, and about which Betsey was quite thoughtless.  So many people of her degree would talk to the patient about himself and his danger, and go on constantly before him with all their fears, and the doctor’s opinions, that Betsey had never thought of there being more consideration and tenderness shewn in this house, nor that Mrs. King would have hidden any pressing danger from the sick person; but such plain words had not yet passed between her and Mr. Blunt; and though she had long felt what Alfred’s illness would come to, the perception had rather grown on her than come at any particular moment.

Now when Ellen, with tears and agitation, asked what that Betsey had been saying to frighten Alfred so, and when she saw her poor boy’s look at her, and heard his sob, ‘Oh, Mother!’ it was almost too much for her, and she went up and kissed him, and laid him down less uneasily, but he felt a great tear fall on his face.

‘It’s not true, Mother, I’m sure it is not true,’ cried Ellen; ’she ought—­’

Mrs. King looked at her daughter with a sad sweet face, that stopped her short, and brought the sense over her too.  ’Did he say so, Mother?’ said Alfred.

‘Not to me, dear,’ she answered; ’but, Ellen, she’s coming back!  She’ll be up here if you don’t go down.’