sleep after the recent excitement, and she left her again, taking little
Bella with her. Mrs. Maynard slept long, but woke none the better for her
nap. Towards evening she grew feverish, and her fever mounted as the
night fell. She was restless and wakeful, and between her dreamy dozes
she was incessant in her hints for a consultation to Grace, who passed
the night in her room, and watched every change for the worse with a
self-accusing heart. The impending trouble was in that indeterminate
phase which must give the physician his most anxious moments; and this
inexperienced girl; whose knowledge was all to be applied, and who had
hardly arrived yet at that dismaying stage when a young physician finds
all the results at war with all the precepts, began to realize the
awfulness of her responsibility. She had always thought of saving life,
and not of losing it.




V.

By morning Grace was as nervous and anxious as her patient, who had
momentarily the advantage of her in having fallen asleep. She went
stealthily out, and walked the length of the piazza, bathing her eyes
with the sight of the sea, cool and dim under a clouded sky. At the
corner next the kitchen she encountered Barlow, who, having kindled the
fire for the cook, had spent s moment of leisure in killing some chickens
at the barn; he appeared with a cluster of his victims in his hand, but
at sight of Grace he considerately put them behind him.

She had not noticed them. "Mr. Barlow," she said, "how far is it to
Corbitant?"