"Ah, botheration," said the weeping servant, "there's nobody nigher'n cousins, and they're far away. But there's friends and neighbors enough, as will come if they're wanted. I'll go for 'em meself."
That morning Dr. Carollyn was aroused from the slumber into which he had dropped, after his night's unrest, by the entrance of his friend, whom the servants had orders to admit at all seasons.
"In bed yet? Were you up last night? I'm glad I'm not a physician—I like my ease too well."
"Yes, Maurice, I attended a dying lady last night. I've been dreaming about it. It was so sad. She left a daughter not more than sixteen, and without a relative in the world."
"Was it any one we knew?"
"It was Mrs. St. John—her husband was a scientific man, and wasted much of their property in experiments. So I've heard my father say, who liked him very much—their tastes were similar."
"St. John? and the daughter's name is Annie? I know the family. Paul St. John has displayed many a chemical wonder to me, in days gone by, when I was a boy and used to steal visits to his laboratory. Annie was a wee thing, then, golden-headed and blue-eyed. I've met her occasionally of late days—she's one of the sweetest flowers that e'er the sun shone on—and dark blue is her e'e, and for bonnie Annie St. John, I'd lay me down and dee. That is, I wouldn't—for I'm not given to such things—but you would, Leger, after you've known her awhile. Yes," he resumed after a pause, during which he had stood by the window in a reverie unusually long for his butterfly nature, "Annie St John is the girl for you, Leger. You are so exacting—you want the whole heart and soul of some woman, and she's just the one. She is situated like yourself—not a near relative to dispute your place in her affections. She'd worship you, I know she would—it's in her! By George, but she's beautiful; and she must be accomplished, for her mother was one of the rarest women I ever knew. Ha! ha! Leger, wouldn't it disappoint some of our brilliant belles, if you should go outside the conservatory and gather such a dainty flower?"
"Hush, Maurice, don't talk in this manner, while that poor young thing is breaking her heart beside her mother's corpse."
"It's not because I'm not sorry for her," said Maurice, more soberly. "But I saw such a pretty romance developing."
"As usual, you're building your castles out of nothing but air," responded his friend, gravely, and began talking of other subjects; and this one was never again resumed between them.