“Doctor,” cried Mary, “how can you speak so to me?  You dare not look me in the face.  You know you dare not:  as if you did not know as well as I do!  Oh, why does that child see her, and not me?”

“There it is,” he said, with a broken laugh.  “Could anything show better that it is a mere delusion?  Why, in the name of all that is reasonable, should this stranger child see her, if it was anything, and not you?”

Mrs. Turner looked from one to another with wondering eyes.  “You know what it is?” she said.  “Oh, you know what it is?  Doctor, doctor, is it because my Connie is so delicate?  Is it a warning?  Is it—­”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!  You will drive me mad, you ladies.  Is it this, and is it that?  It is nothing, I tell you.  The child is out of sorts, and she has seen some picture that has caught her fancy,—­and she thinks she sees—­I’ll send her a bottle,” he cried, jumping up, “that will put an end to all that.”

“Doctor, don’t go away, tell me rather what I must do—­if she is looking for something!  Oh, doctor, think if she were unhappy, if she were kept out of her sweet rest!”

“Miss Mary, for God’s sake, be reasonable.  You ought never to have heard a word.”

“Doctor, think! if it should be anything we can do.  Oh, tell me, tell me!  Don’t go away and leave me; perhaps we can find out what it is.”

“I will have nothing to do with your findings out.  It is mere delusion.  Put them both to bed, Mrs. Turner; put them all to bed!—­as if there was not trouble enough!”

“What is it?” cried Connie’s mother; “is it a warning!  Oh, for the love of God, tell me, is that what comes before a death?”

When they were all in this state of agitation, the vicar and his wife were suddenly shown into the room.  Mrs. Bowyer’s eyes flew to Mary, but she was too well bred a woman not to pay her respects first to the lady of the house, and there were a number of politenesses exchanged, very breathlessly on Mrs. Turner’s part, before the new-comers were free to show the real occasion of their visit.  “Oh, Mary, what did you mean by taking such a step all in a moment?  How could you come here, of all places in the world?  And how could you leave me without a word?” the vicar’s wife said, with her lips against Mary’s cheek.  She had already perceived, without dwelling upon it, the excitement in which all the party were.  This was said while the vicar was still making his bow to his new parishioner, who knew very well that her visitors had not intended to call; for the Turners were dissenters, to crown all their misdemeanors, beside being city people and nouveaux riches.

“Don’t ask me any questions just now,” said Mary, clasping almost hysterically her friend’s hand.