The great porch of the mansion was dark, but the physician made out that the door was open, and he entered.A feeble light came from the bronze lamp at the turn of the stairs, and by it he found his way, his feet sinking noiselessly in the rich carpets.At the head of the stairs the man met him.The doctor thought himself a tall man, but the stranger topped him by half a head.He motioned the physician to follow him, and the two went down the hall to the front room.The place was flushed with a rose-colored glow from several lamps.On a silken couch, in the midst of pillows, lay a woman dying with consumption.She was like a lily, white, shapely, graceful, with feeble yet charming movements.She looked at the doctor ap-pealingly, then, seeing in his eyes the in-voluntary verdict that her hour was at hand, she turned toward her companion with a glance of anguish.Dr.Block asked a few questions.The man answered them, the woman remaining silent.The physician ad-ministered something stimulating, and then wrote a prescription which he placed on the mantel-shelf.
"The drug store is closed to-night," he said, "and I fear the druggist has gone home.
You can have the prescription filled the first thing in the morning, and I will be over before breakfast."After that, there was no reason why he should not have gone home.Yet, oddly enough, he preferred to stay.Nor was it professional anxiety that prompted this delay.
He longed to watch those mysterious per-
sons, who, almost oblivious of his presence, were speaking their mortal farewells in their glances, which were impassioned and of un-utterable sadness.
He sat as if fascinated.He watched the glitter of rings on the woman's long, white hands, he noted the waving of light hair about her temples, he observed the details of her gown of soft white silk which fell about her in voluminous folds.Now and then the man gave her of the stimulant which the doc-tor had provided; sometimes he bathed her face with water.Once he paced the floor for a moment till a motion of her hand quieted him.
After a time, feeling that it would be more sensible and considerate of him to leave, the doctor made his way home.His wife was awake, impatient to hear of his experiences.
She listened to his tale in silence, and when he had finished she turned her face to the wall and made no comment.
"You seem to be ill, my dear," he said.
"You have a chill.You are shivering."
"I have no chill," she replied sharply.
"But I -- well, you may leave the light burning."The next morning before breakfast the doc-tor crossed the dewy sward to the Netherton house.The front door was locked, and no one answered to his repeated ringings.The old gardener chanced to be cutting the grass near at hand, and he came running up.
"What you ringin' that door-bell for, doc-tor?" said he."The folks ain't come home yet.There ain't nobody there.""Yes, there is, Jim.I was called here last night.A man came for me to attend his wife.They must both have fallen asleep that the bell is not answered.I wouldn't be sur-prised to find her dead, as a matter of fact.
She was a desperately sick woman.Perhaps she is dead and something has happened to him.You have the key to the door, Jim.
Let me in."
But the old man was shaking in every limb, and refused to do as he was bid.
"Don't you never go in there, doctor,"
whispered he, with chattering teeth."Don't you go for to 'tend no one.You jus' come tell me when you sent for that way.No, Iain't goin' in, doctor, nohow.It ain't part of my duties to go in.That's been stipulated by Mr.Netherton.It's my business to look after the garden."Argument was useless.Dr.Block took the bunch of keys from the old man's pocket and himself unlocked the front door and entered.
He mounted the steps and made his way to the upper room.There was no evidence of occupancy.The place was silent, and, so far as living creature went, vacant.The dust lay over everything.It covered the delicate damask of the sofa where he had seen the dying woman.It rested on the pillows.The place smelled musty and evil, as if it had not been used for a long time.The lamps of the room held not a drop of oil.
But on the mantel-shelf was the prescrip-tion which the doctor had written the night before.He read it, folded it, and put it in his pocket.
As he locked the outside door the old gar-dener came running to him.
"Don't you never go up there again, will you?" he pleaded, "not unless you see all the Nethertons home and I come for you myself.
You won't, doctor?"
"No," said the doctor.
When he told his wife she kissed him, and said:
"Next time when I tell you to stay at home, you must stay!"
