“Not Ethel, thank goodness!” responded the surgeon. “It is Sarah Anne. I have been recommending my lady to send Ethel from home. I should send her, were she a daughter of mine.”
“Is Sarah Anne likely to have it dangerously?”
“I think so. Is there any necessity for you going to the house just now, Mr. Godolphin?”
Thomas Godolphin smiled. “There is no necessity for my keeping away. I do not fear the fever any more than you do.”
He passed into the garden as he spoke, and Mr. Snow drove away. Ethel saw him, and came out to him.
“Oh, Thomas, do not come in! do not come!”
His only answer was to take her on his arm and enter. He threw open the drawing-room window, that as much air might circulate through the house as possible, and stood there with her, holding her before him.
“Ethel! what am I to do with you?”
“To do with me! What should you do with me, Thomas?”
“Do you know, my darling, that I cannot afford to let this danger touch you?”