Her kind remonstrance had its effect, and the Burtons now consented to
let her go.

All kissed her most fondly, bade her good-by, and called down the
choicest blessings of Heaven upon her head.

"God bless you, and keep you safe from the horrible fever!" were the
words still ringing in her ears, as the heroic and devoted girl
followed the doctor's man out into the street.

It was not raining now, but the murky, mist-laden atmosphere was
rendered like a damp, choking, heavy pall of gloom by the dense
volumes of pitch and tar-smoke with which it seemed to be perfectly
soaked, as a sponge is with water. It caused Agnes to cough violently
and continuously until she arrived at her new destination, which was a
private dwelling-house, apparently the abode of some one belonging to
the middle class of society.

"This is the place, Miss Arnold," said the man, "a young lady was
taken early this morning while she was visiting in the house, and a
few hours ago a Sister of Mercy, who was sent in to nurse her, went
down sick. And they're both in bed together."

Agnes could not account for it, but the moment she heard mention of
the Sister of Charity, a feeling came over her that it must be one of
the three with whom she had come hither in the cars.

Upon reaching the house, she found that her impression was
correct. Sure enough, tossing in agony and delirium upon the bed, was
Sister Theresa. By some mistake, a male nurse had also been sent to