CHAPTER V.
THE letters were brought in; one was to Vizard, from Herries, announcing a remittance; one to Lord Uxmoor. On reading it, he was surprised into an exclamation, and his face expressed great concern.
“Oh!” said Zoe—“Harrington!”
Harrington's attention being thus drawn, he said, “No bad news, I hope?”
“Yes,” said Uxmoor, in a low voice, “very bad. My oldest, truest, dearest friend has been seized with small-pox, and his life is in danger. He has asked for me, poor fellow. This is from his sister. I must start by the twelve o'clock train.”
“Small-pox! Why, it is contagious,” cried Fanny; “and so disfiguring!”
“I can't help that,” said the honest fellow; and instantly rang the bell for his servant, and gave the requisite orders.
Zoe, whose eye had never left him all the time, said, softly, “It is brave and good of you. We poor, emotional, cowardly girls should sit down and cry.”
“You would not, Miss Vizard,” said he, firmly, looking full at her. “If you think you would, you don't know yourself.”