Year: 1876

? the reply, but 1 will not tax you
: patience or politeness any further
= A few words of warm thanks from
f the doctor was an opening for a con
t versation in which all joined, anC
g that musical voice from behind tn,
( curtain so frankly and freely sus
9 tanned its part that the odd sensation
E caused at first by its Invisible owne
} gradually became lost in the interes
. and pleasure excited by the tenor o


her words. Without any pedanti'
display, it was impossible for Effi'
: Greynaught to converse without Civ
t ing evidence of a thoughtful, studi
| Gus life. Shut out from outdoor
amusements, often deprived of the


power to sew or knit by pain, she haC
J found her book and music such com
panions as they never can be to the


free and happy. Many dreary day
had been shortened by mastering
some new difficulty In foreign Ian
guage, puzzling out geometrlca


problem, or translating Latin verse
! till it was surprising, even consider


ing her peculiar life, to find how


much she had learned and remem-
bered. Her almost morbid sensitive


ness about her appearance kept heI


from even joining any social gather


ing. but there were many gentlemen


of deep culture and noble intellect


who recalled with pleasure their con-


versations with the crippled daughter


of Mr.. Greynaught while visiting at


Webster.


The hours passed 80 swiftly that
Doctor Murrell could scarcely credit
his eyes or his watch when he found
It was nearly midnight, and he bade
his entertainers goodnight with a
keen desire TO accept their warm in
v.tation to come again soon, come
often, and try to feel at home at Myr-
tie Hill.'


He found, however, that his days


were not to be passed In visiting. 1t
was an unusually sickly season at
Webster, a damp but warm winter
! having set in, causing fever and
rheumatic affections to prevail to an
extent heretofore unknown in the viii
lage. Day after day added to the list
of patients, and although there was
little to alarm, little to tax his skill
and knowledge, he found his time
fully occupied, and his nights scarce
ly long enough for necessary rest.


Doctor Murrell was a great nephew
of the old doctor who had preceded
him, and, when he stepped into his
uncle's practice, he inherited also his
house and comfortable fortune, while
apart from that he was a wealthy
man. He had studied medicine be-
cause he loved it. and with that love
and ample means at his command, he
had made such progress as many men
scarcely gain in lifetime. Three
years he had passed in Paris, studying
so closely that he found his own
health required relaxation, then home
again, with French diploma added
to the one already taken in Philadel-
phia.


In New York he had practised
amongst the very poor, giving time,
skill and money freely; and when
he came to Webster it was but to re-
main until another physician wished
the position, aud left him free to seek
wider fields of usefulness.


1t had been life of peculiar lonell-
ness that had welded Alan Murrell
so closely to his profession. He stood
literally alone in the world from his
seventeenth birthday, when he had
followed q widowed mother to the
grave. What of his wide phllanthro-
py, his pure, noble life, his ready
sympathy, and gentle courtesy were
due TO her loving guidance none
knew but himself, but that they were
firmly implanted in his nature, all
who knew him were ready to admit.


November was past, and Decem-
ber's cold was aiding the doctor in his
work of healing, when, having leis-
ure afternoon, he turned his horses
head in the direction of Myrtle Hill.
At the gate, meeting one of the men
who worked on the place, the doctor
dismounted and gave up his horse.
Strolling up the wide avenue. he
looked towards the house, and in the
windows of the room he knew from
its position to be Effie's, be saw a
head and face that almost arrested his
steps with surprise. He thought at
first it was child, but second glance
convinced him that it was young
girl, apparently about seventeen or
eighteen.


She was not looking towards him,
so he walked still more leisurely to
look at her. 1t was the face of all an
gel. Waves of curling hair fell over
the shoulders, a complexion fair as an
ivory miniature, large blue eyes, and
delicate features, in perfect keeping
with the shower of golden curls.


Only the head and face were visible.


Some visitor of that poor cripple
girl. She sees some old friends,
thought the doctor. 1T Is no one in
Webster. Perhaps some visitor for
the Christmas holidays. 1 never saw
so lovely face and here his mental
observations were cut short, for the
young lady saw him, and curtain
fell in an instant before her face.


The call was a pleasant one, and |
the sweet voice of the crippled girl
Joined the conversation, but no men,
tion was made of the beautiful visitor,
and Doctor Murrell felt disappoint-
ment he would not have cared to con-
fess, that he did not again see the ex-