Perhaps Hannah had made a fatal mistake in saying to her sister, “He will never come again,” and so depriving her of the last frail plank of hope, and letting her sink in the waves of despair.  Perhaps, after all, suspense is not the worst of all things to bear; for in suspense there is hope, and in hope, life!  Certain it is that a prop seemed withdrawn from Nora, and from this day she rapidly sunk.  She would not take to her bed.  Every morning she would insist upon rising and dressing, though daily the effort was more difficult.  Every day she would go to her wheel and spin slowly and feebly, until by fatigue she was obliged to stop and throw herself upon the bed.  To all Hannah’s anxious questions she answered: 

“I am very well! indeed there is nothing ails me; only I am so tired!”

One day about this time Reuben Gray called to see Hannah.  Reuben was one of the most discreet of lovers, never venturing to visit his beloved more than once in each month.

“Look at Nora!” said Hannah, in a heart-broken tone, as she pointed to her sister, who was sitting at her wheel, not spinning, but gazing from the window down the narrow footpath, and apparently lost in mournful reverie.

“I’ll go and fetch a medical man,” said Reuben, and he left the hut for that purpose.

But distances from house to house in that sparsely settled neighborhood were great, and doctors were few and could not be had the moment they were called for.  So it was not until the next day that Doctor Potts, the round-bodied little medical attendant of the neighborhood, made his appearance at the hut.

He was welcomed by Hannah, who introduced him to her sister.

Nora received his visit with a great deal of nervous irritability, declaring that nothing at all ailed her, only that she was tired.

“Tired,” repeated the doctor, as he felt her pulse and watched her countenance.  “Yes, tired of living! a serious fatigue this, Hannah.  Her malady is more on the mind than the body!  You must try to rouse her, take her into company, keep her amused.  If you were able to travel, I should recommend change of scene; but of course that is out of the question.  However, give her this, according to the directions.  I will call in again to see her in a few days.”  And so saying, the doctor left a bottle of medicine and took his departure.

That day the doctor had to make a professional visit of inspection to the negro quarters at Brudenell Hall; so he mounted his fat little white cob and trotted down the hill in the direction of the valley.

When he arrived at Brudenell Hall he was met by Mrs. Brudenell, who said to him: 

“Dr. Potts, I wish before you leave, you would see my son.  I am seriously anxious about his health.  He objected to my sending for you; but now that you are here on a visit to the quarters, perhaps his objections may give way.”

“Very well, madam; but since he does not wish to be attended, perhaps he had better not know that my visit is to him; I will just make you a call as usual.”