might take the liberty, if it wasn't love, was it
measles?

"She's had 'em, sir," replied Mr. Boreas,
thoughtfully, "had 'em, I tell you, had 'em, had
'em," he repeated, with as much seeming
earnestness as if he were addressing a brother-
practitioner, though, in fact, he was deep in the
case.

The school-bell then rang, and we hastened
our different ways.

The mysterious illness of the beautiful
French girl, whose face at church was so familiar
to many of the school, became a topic of general
interest. As for me, the mental anxiety I
suffered was beyond description. As the days
dragged on, bringing us no authentic tidings
of her condition, the worst fears beset me.
In the playground I dreaded to lift my eyes,
lest the windows of the Lamonds' house, utterly
closed, should extinguish every hope. We
knew, from our own observation, that the road
in front had been covered with straw, and
learned in some vague manner that every
means had been resorted to, to procure that
life-bestowing sleep of which the doctor had
spoken; but in vain.

At a shop, whose proprietor kept a Bath
chair for hire, I learned further, that Desirée,
having at her own request been taken out for a
few minutes, and been at first greatly revived
by the air and movement, was, on returning,
reduced to a more distressing condition than
before. This was the sadder disappointment,
as the poor girl, in natural enjoyment of her
improved sensations, had been in high spirits,
conversing with friends she met during her
little ride, and finally insisting on holding
conference with Mother Rabbit herself, on the
virtues and properties of snuff. Working this
valuable line of information further, it turned
out that old Rabbit had been for some time
a pensioner of my sweet goddess in the matter
of snuff—snuff alone (strange to say, she would
accept from her nothing else); and nothing
appeared to afford the old woman such supreme
delight as flourishing under Desirée's nose a
little "tabatière" with which the latter had
presented her. On this occasion, Mother
Rabbit, in her ecstasy at the reappearance of
her young patroness, went through such
exercises with her half-open snuff-box, that the
invalid, sneezing painfully, had to be taken on.

The misery of suspense began, I think, at this
time to affect my health. I could not sleep at
night, and abhorring the playground, sat moping
in the schoolroom by day. My very appetite
flickered out, and I got so wan and pale, that it
was no wonder that (as I afterwards heard) Mr.
Bohné remarked to his confidant, Murrell:

"Didn't I tell you I would have his blood?
I'm doing it."

"Hallo, Corydon," said Mr. Boreas, singling
me out at his next visit, "I must have a talk
with you."

He walked me down the playground, in which
there were only one or two fellows, and asked
me doctor's questions.

"Well, I can't see that there's much the
matter with you, yet you're not right. D'ye get
enough to eat?" (I nodded.) "I don't want
another puz/ling case on my hands," he added,
looking steadily at me.

I snatched at the allusion.

"Doctor, how is Miss—Miss—"

"Lamond? Very, very ill. That is the
worst we doctors say."

"Do you mean that—" My heart had
given a leap, and now stood still.

The doctor's looks replied to my question.

"And I shall never, never, see her again!" I
exclaimed; and, regardless of everything else in
the world, burst into a passion of tears.

"Hallo, young—," began the astonished
Mr. Boreas; but close beside us a small voice
said, quietly and timidly:

"TSEERY!"

It was Murrell Sillito, who had crept up to
us unnoticed, and was pointing with a trembling
finger towards the well-known window. There,
in very deed, was visible my poor goddess,
tenderly supported between two attendants, while
her mother, leaning over from behind, helped
the weakened hand to wave a signal of
recognition and farewell.

"That's right. Throw away her last chance.
Ah! how dare you?" cried Mr. Boreas, shaking
his clenched fist at the group. "Put her to
bed, you (a-hemmed) fools! Are you trying to
kill her ?"

"No, no. It's he that's killing her; he"
said Murrell, crying bitterly, crimson,
apparently, with passion, and stamping with both
his little feet, as he pointed to Christian Bohné,
who was sauntering in the direction of the
house. There was a mark on Murrell's temple,
and one of his eyes, which I thought had been
swollen by his tears, was blackening as from a
blow.

"He!" repeated Mr. Boreas, bewildered.
"Bohné killing my patient! What does the
boy mean?"

"He is doing it; he said he'd do it," insisted
Murrell. "He has set Rabbit on her."

"Set—Rabbit," gasped the doctor. "What
do you mean now?"

He turned to me, but I was as much perplexed
as himself. Suddenly, however, the
thought of Mother Rabbit and her alleged evil
eye flashed upon me, and I blurted out some
intended explanation of that mystery.

"Evil eye! Evil fig's end," roared the doctor.
"I think you're all gone crazy. Now, my
friends," and, with a menacing gesture, he
hurried off to the Lamonds'.

What followed I learned from other sources.

"'Insisted' upon going out in the chair, ill
as she was, and 'insisted' upon being stuck up
at the window afterwards!" exclaimed the doctor,
soon after entering the house. "Why do
you tell me such stuff, nurse? It was your
duty to insist too."

Nurse discreetly threw upon her mistress
the responsibility of explaining. Mrs. Lamond,
with tears, confessed that, seeing the patient a