beside the bed. She sat there silently, unnoticed all the
evening. When night came she could hardly be persuaded to leave the
room.

One day Mr. Treffry expressed a wish to see Herr Paul; it was a long
while before the latter could summon courage to go in.

"There's a few dozen of the Gordon sherry at my Chambers, in London,
Paul," Mr. Treffry said; "I'd be glad to think you had 'em. And my man,
Dominique, I've made him all right in my will, but keep your eye on him;
he's a good sort for a foreigner, and no chicken, but sooner or later,
the women'll get hold of him. That's all I had to say. Send Chris to
me."

Herr Paul stood by the bedside speechless. Suddenly he blurted out.

"Ah! my dear! Courage! We are all mortal. You will get well!" All the
morning he walked about quite inconsolable. "It was frightful to see
him, you know, frightful! An iron man could not have borne it."

When Christian came to him, Mr. Treffry raised himself and looked at her
a long while.

His wistful face was like an accusation. But that very afternoon the
news came from the sickroom that he was better, having had no pain for
several hours.

Every one went about with smiles lurking in their eyes, and ready to
break forth at a word. In the kitchen Barbi burst out crying, and,
forgetting to toss the pan, spoiled a Kaiser-Schmarn she was making.
Dominique was observed draining a glass of Chianti, and solemnly casting
forth the last drops in libation. An order was given for tea to be taken
out under the acacias, where it was always cool; it was felt that
something in the nature of high festival was being held. Even Herr Paul
was present; but Christian did not come. Nobody spoke of illness; to
mention it might break the spell.

Miss Naylor, who had gone into the house, came back, saying:

"There is a strange man standing over there by the corner of the house."

"Really!" asked Mrs. Decie; "what does he want?"

Miss Naylor reddened. "I did not ask him. I--don't--know--whether he is
quite respectable. His coat is buttoned very close, and he--doesn't
seem--to have a--collar."

"Go and see what he wants, dear child," Mrs. Decie said to Greta.

"I don't know--I really do not know--" began Miss Naylor; "he has
very--high--boots," but Greta was already on her way, with hands clasped
behind her, and demure eyes taking in the stranger's figure.

"Please?" she said, when she was close to him.

The stranger took his cap off