"You must send Thorburn here to-night."
Dr. Sunbury rose and walked restlessly about the little office.
"To-night," repeated Dr. Forman; "for I don't think she'll last beyond to-morrow."
"Why, what's the matter with her?" asked Dr. Sunbury, pausing in his troubled walk.
"Nothing but death," answered Dr. Forman. "Skill can do nothing for that woman. She ought to have rallied from the fainting spells; instead, she went off into convulsions. She ought to have rallied from the convulsions; instead, she is sinking as fast as any mortal I ever saw. Poor thing, so pretty, so gentle!"
It was arranged that Mr. Thorburn was to be sent for; and to Dr. Sunbury was left the dreadful task of telling him the truth.
An hour after that, Dr. Sunbury, thinking miserably of poor Priscilla and the unhappy creature up-stairs, heard the wheels of Dr. Forman's buggy grinding on the gravel outside, and Mr. Thorburn's quick, firm step as he entered the house. Dr. Sunbury met him with a sinking heart, and a cold tremor that shook him like an aspen.
"I came at once, as you see, my friend," began Thorburn cheerily. And then looking closer at Dr. Sunbury's white face, said, "Why, what is the matter?"
Dr. Sunbury, without a word, led him back into the little office, and carefully closed the door. "Thorburn," he said, "I believe you to be a man and a Christian. Call up, therefore, all your manhood, and all your dependence on God, to bear what I have to tell you."
Mr. Thorburn's dark skin grew a shade darker at these words, but he made no reply, only looking Dr. Sunbury full in the eye.