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Updated: May 20, 2025
I fear it is to be one of those cases where we cannot discover anything like a crisis at all; indeed I have doubts about this old theory being applicable to this kind of fever, where the virus goes on gradually working to the end." "The end!" echoed Mrs. Maconie; "then, doctor, I fear you see what that will be."
William Maconie, who was a merchant on the South Bridge of Edinburgh, but who, for the sake of exercise and fresh air a commodity this last he need not have gone so far from the Calton Hill to seek resided at Juniper Green, a little village three or four miles from St. Giles's.
Nor in all this was Annie Maconie more extravagant than are nineteen-twentieths of the thousand millions in the world who still cling to occult causes.
Maconie, "it would be hard to bear; but" and it was the first time since Mary's illness he had ever remembered the insurance "it was wise that I insured poor Mary's life in the Pelican." "Insured her life in the Pelican!" echoed the wife in a higher tone. "That was at least lucky; but, oh! I hope we will not need to have our grief solaced by that comfort in affliction for many a day."
And glad would we be if, by the laws of historical truth, our stranger story could have ended here; but, alas! we are obliged to pain the good reader's heart by saying that the demon who had left the troubled little breast of Mary Maconie took possession of Annie's. The very next day she lay extended on the bed, panting under the fell embrace of the relentless foe.
Great thoughts these for so little a woman as Annie Maconie; and no doubt the greatness and the weight of them were the cause why, for all that day every hour of which her father was allowing to pass she was more melancholy and thoughtful than she had ever been since Mary began to be ill.
"Why, yes, dear; all that is for it below the figure," said he, smiling, and wondering what the next question would be. "I am so glad I have found you," said she; "because sister Mary is dying." "And who is sister Mary?" "My sister, Mary Maconie, at Juniper Green." Whereupon the gentleman began to remember that the name of William Maconie was in his books as holder of a policy. "And what more?"
And surely all this solicitude on the part of Annie Maconie need not excite our wonder, when we consider that, from the time of their birth, the twin sisters had never been separated, but that, from the moment they had made their entrance on this world's stage, they had been always each where the other was, and had run each where the other ran, wished each what the other wished, and wept and laughed each when the other wept or laughed.
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