the house had been left open when she came forth in the anguish of
her wild alarm to summon her husband, and she re-entered and flew
up-stairs without the pause of an instant. Wilkinson was but a
moment or two later in reaching the house, and in gaining their
chamber. The sight that met his eyes sent the blood coldly to his
heart. The mother had already snatched the child from the crib in
which she had left her, and was standing with her close to the lamp,
the light from which fell strongly upon her infantile face, that was
fearfully distorted. The eyes were open and rolled up, until the
entire pupil was hidden. The lips were white with their firm
compression; and yet they had a quick nervous motion.

"Oh, John! John! what is the matter?" cried Mrs. Wilkinson, as she
looked first upon the face of her child, and then into that of her
husband, with a most anxious and imploring glance. "Is she dying?"

"No, dear, I think not," returned Wilkinson, with a composure of
voice that belied the agitation of his feelings.

"Oh! what is the matter? Yes! Yes! I'm sure she's dying. Oh! run
quick! quick! for the doctor."

"First," said Wilkinson, who was becoming, every moment, more
self-possessed, and who now saw that the child, who was teething,
had been thrown into spasms, "let us do what we can for her. She is
in convulsions, and we must get her into a bath of hot water as
quickly as possible. I will call up Anna. Don't be alarmed," he
added, in a soothing voice: "there is no immediate danger."

"Are you sure, John? Are you sure? Oh! I'm afraid she is dying! My