"Miasma, perhaps—malaria. This is autumn, a season fertile in fevers."
"I hear you often visit the sick in Briarfield, and Nunnely too, with Mr. Hall. You should be on your guard; temerity is not wise."
"That reminds me, Miss Keeldar, that perhaps you had better not enter this chamber or come near this couch. I do not believe my illness is infectious. I scarcely fear"—with a sort of smile—"you will take it; but why should you run even the shadow of a risk? Leave me."
"Patience, I will go soon; but I should like to do something for you before I depart—any little service——"
"They will miss you below."
"No; the gentlemen are still at table."
"They will not linger long. Sir Philip Nunnely is no wine-bibber, and I hear him just now pass from the dining-room to the drawing-room."
"It is a servant."
"It is Sir Philip; I know his step."
"Your hearing is acute."