rouble you again."

Gyp's gratitude was qualified by a queer compassion. After all, his
offence had only been that of loving her.

Fiorsen had been taken to her room, which was larger and cooler than his
own; and the maid was standing by the side of the bed with a scared face.
Gyp signed to her to go. He opened his eyes presently:

"Gyp! Oh! Gyp! Is it you? The devilish, awful things I see--don't go
away again! Oh, Gyp!" With a sob he raised himself and rested his
forehead against her. And Gyp felt--as on the first night he came home
drunk--a merging of all other emotions in the desire to protect and heal.

"It's all right, all right," she murmured. "I'm going to stay. Don't
worry about anything. Keep quite quiet, and you'll soon be well."

In a quarter of an hour, he was asleep. His wasted look went to her
heart, and that expression of terror which had been coming and going
until he fell asleep! Anything to do with the brain was so horrible!
Only too clear that she must stay--that his recovery depended on her.
She was still sitting there, motionless, when the doctor came, and,
seeing him asleep, beckoned her out. He looked a kindly man, with two
waistcoats, the top one unbuttoned; and while he talked, he winked at Gyp
involuntarily, and, with each wink, Gyp felt that he ripped the veil off
one more domestic secret. Sleep was the ticket--the very ticket for him!
Had something on his mind--yes! And--er--a little given to--brandy? Ah!
all that must stop! Stomach as well as nerves affected. Seeing
things--nasty things--sure sign. Perhaps not a very careful life before
marriage. And married--how long? His kindly appreciative eyes swept Gyp
from top to toe. Year and a half! Quite so! Hard worker at his violin,
too? No doubt! Musicians always a little inclined to be immoderate--too
much sense of beauty--burn the candle at both ends! She must see to
that. She had been away, had she not--staying with her father? Yes.
But--no one like a wife for nursing. As to treatment? Well! One would
shove in a dash of what he would prescribe, night and morning. Perfect
quiet. No stimulant. A little cup of strong coffee without milk, if he
seemed low. Keep him in bed at present. No worry; no excitement. Young
man still. Plenty of vitality. As to herself, no undue anxiety.
To-morrow they would see whether a night nurse would be necessary. Above
all, no violin for a month, no alcohol--in every way the