Madeline's couch, "I am going for the doctor. It is daybreak, and we must wait no longer."
"Very well," replied the father.
"Poor Madeline!" murmured the faithful Irène, as she kissed her silent companion 's face, upon which a tear dropped from her own—”Poor Madeline!" Irène was one of those abiding creatures who are only to be found, perhaps, in her own sex, to whom vicissitude is a power that strengthens devotion and love. She would have given her life for Madeline. There was no red in her cheeks now as she hastened through the deserted streets toward the doctor's office; the watching of the night had paled her face, but had not weakened her spirit.
She soon arrived at the office, and knocked; but there came no answer. She tried the door, but it was locked. Unwilling: to return without that which she hoped would bring help, she looked through the keyhole, hoping to find the doctor, who had been somewhat sullen on her first visit, and she thought might perhaps be so again. Her eyes were met by sharp eyes gleaming at her from within.
