A man she knew to be Doctor Brackett stood on the porch, a satchel in his hand. His horse was at the gate.
"I'm just in from Atlanta," he explained, hurriedly. "I have a new clerk at my store, and in looking over his prescriptions I saw that he had sold Miss Holder quite a quantity of morphine tablets. You see, from the talk that is going on in town I was afraid she might have taken an—an overdose—you know what I mean?"
"I think something is wrong with her," Lizzie cried, aghast. "Hurry! Come! I'll light her lamp!"
Lizzie fairly ran up the steps and into Jane's room. She struck a match and lighted the lamp. The doctor followed her and bent over the sleeping woman. He opened her dress, quickly cut her corset-laces, and made an examination. Then, standing up, he turned to the bureau and began to search the littered top of it.
"Oh, here we are!" he exclaimed, in relief, as he picked up a vial containing morphine tablets and shook them between him and the light. "She's had a close shave. She thought she was taking enough."
"You mean that she—"
"Oh yes." The doctor put the vial into his pocket. "It is a plain case. Her mind is out of order. She actually—so my clerk heard to-night—went to the undertaker's and asked him the prices of various costly caskets. The undertaker thought she was referring to her recent bad news. She will come out of this sleep all right. But the truth is she can't recover. It is only a question of a week or two now. In fact, she won't get up from this. She hasn't the vitality. She has literally burned herself out and been living on her energies and nerves. She couldn't stand the shock of that sad calamity. I am sorry for you, too, Mrs. Trott. John was a fine boy. Now leave her just as she is. She will be easier handled in the morning. She is in no immediate danger."
The doctor took up his satchel and started away. In the darkened corridor Lizzie overtook him just as he had reached the head of the stairs.
"You said Jane had bad news, doctor," she began, falteringly, dreading revelations to come. "Do you mean about—about John taking her niece away?"
"Yes, Mrs. Trott, and the other—the deaths of the two in that awful wreck."