nvalid was looking more death-like than ever, but
his face lighted with pleasure at the sight of Nan, while she ran to the
sofa and arranged his cushions with loving solicitude. When he was
settled she knelt beside him to exchange greetings, putting her hand on
his with a caressing gesture, and he held it firmly while he replied, as
if gaining strength from the contact. Gervase Vanburgh thought he had
never seen so typical a picture of youth and age as that made by his
uncle and the bright-faced girl, and mentally contrasted this welcome
with the one given to himself the day before. His uncle had never shown
such pleasure on his arrival; but he felt no jealousy of the girl who
was so evidently preferred before himself; for, whatever his faults
might be, he was free at least from any tinge of self-seeking. The lazy
smile lingered on his face as he listened to the exchange of question
and answer.

"This is a pleasant surprise, little woman! When did you come across?
I did not hear of your arrival."

"Bounced in ten minutes ago, and had such a fright to find a stranger
here instead of you. Why didn't you send at once to tell me that you
were worse?"

"Because I could not have seen you if you had come. On my bad days I am
best alone; but I am pulling round again, and am glad to have Gervase's
company. You have made each other's acquaintance, I see! I suppose
neither had much difficulty in guessing the identity of the other."

"He thought I was Lilias!" said Nan, glancing at Gervase with laughing
eyes. "Think of that! He will be surprised when he sees her, won't he?
But I knew who he was in a moment. Now, tell me honestly, would you
rather I went away? I came meaning to stay to tea, but if you don't
feel able to talk to two people at once I'll come again when you are
alone. I won't be a scrap offended!"

Mr Vanburgh smiled.

"I am sure you would not, but I should like you to stay, please. We
want you to pour out tea for us; and I won't attempt to talk, but just
lie still and amuse myself listening to you."

"But I never can be amusing when I try,--can you?" said Nan, appealing
to Gervase with a friendly smile. "The girls at home think I am
amusing, because I generally say the wrong thing at the wrong moment,
which may be entertaining to them, but is very poor fun for me. Maud
says I speak first and think afterwards; but what can I do? I once made
a vow to cure myself of being impetuous by counting t