that errand."

"Do so," returned Mr. Hardinge, drawing towards him a little table on
which Dr. Wurtz had written a few prescriptions that were used more for
form, I believe, than any expectation of the good they could do; and
beginning to write, even while talking--"Do so"--he added--"and Neb can
put this letter in the post-office on the eastern bank of the river, which
will be the quickest mode of causing it to reach Rupert"

"Rupert!" I exclaimed, on a key that I instantly regretted.

"Certainly; we can do no less than send for Rupert, Miles. He has ever
been like a brother to Grace, and the poor fellow would feel the neglect
keenly, did we overlook him on an occasion like this. You seem astonished
at my thinking of summoning him to Clawbonny."

"Rupert is at the springs, sir--happy in the society of Miss Merton--would
it not be better to leave him where he is?"

"What would you think, Miles, were Lucy on her death-bed, and we should
fail to let you know it?"

I gazed so wildly at the good old man, I believe, that even his simplicity
could not avoid seeing the immense difference between the real and the
supposititious case.

"Very true, poor Miles; very true," Mr. Hardinge added, in an apologetic
manner; "I see the weakness of my comparison, though I was beginning to
hope you were already regarding Lucy, once more, with the eyes of a
brother. But Rupert must not be forgotten neither; and here is my letter