Plot and Counterplot. 121

I rose the next morning in the same state of
stony indifference, went through my usual morning
work, and set off, unusual as the hour was, to Mr.
Hurst’s. I would tell him that I had overheard
men plotting against Mr. Prickard’s life and house
—I need not say that my own father was one of
them—and he would take measures to prevent
all harm.

Mrs. Howells herself answered the door, and
when I was about to pass her with merely a
good morning, she stopped me with, “ You can’t
go in.”

“Not to see Mr. Hurst?” cried I. “But I must,
it’s very important—he—I must see him !”

“Well, it’s as much as his life is worth; so there!”
replied Mrs. Howells. “ He’s down with the bron-
chitis, and as ill as he can be, and the doctor says
he don’t know shall he pull him through or not ; and
nobody is to disturb him, not on no pretence what-
ever.”

I must have shown in my face something of the
shock these words were to me, for Mrs. Howells
added, “ Well, well ; it may not be as bad as all that,
you know. Come you again to-morrow, and I'l
tell you is he any better. But I could not let you
see him, not ifit was ever so.”

I was so engrossed by this new misfortune, that