face. Better not oppose her too much, I
think; her mind is set upon it, and it seems to make her happy. It is,
indeed, as she says, a noble work. God will protect her."

Captain Danton sighed. It seemed to him a very dreary and dismal labour
for his bright Kate. But he had not the heart to oppose her in anything,
let it be never so mad and dangerous. He had never opposed her in the
days of her happiness, and it was late to begin now.

So Kate's new life began. While the weeks of November were ending in
short, dark, dull days, and cold and windy nights, with the dying year,
many in the fever-stricken village were dying too. Into all these humble
dwellings the beautiful girl was welcomed as an angel of light. The
delicacies and rich wines that nourished and strengthened them they owed
to her bounty; the words of holy hope and consolation that soothed their
dying hours, her sweet voice read; the hymns that seemed a foretaste of
Heaven, her clear voice sang. Her white hands closed their dying eyes
and folded the rigid arms, and decked the room of death with flowers
that took away half its ghastliness. Her deft fingers arranged the folds
of the shroud, and the winding-sheet, and her gentle tones whispered
comfort and resignation to the sorrowing ones behind. How they blessed
her, how they loved her, those poor people, was known only to Heaven and
themselves.

There were two others in all these stricken houses, at these beds of
death--Father Francis and Dr. Danton. They were her indefatigable
fellow-labourers in the good work, as unwearied in their zeal and
patience and as deeply beloved as she was. Perhaps it was that by
constantly preaching patience, she had learned patience herself. Perhaps
it was through seeing all his goodness and untiring devotion, she began
to realize after a while she had been unjust to Doctor Danton. She could
not help liking and respecting him. She heard his praises in every mouth
in the village, and she could not help owning they were well deserved.
Almost without knowing it, she was beginning to like and admire this
devoted young Doctor, who never wearied in his zeal, who was so gentle,
and womanly, and tender to the poor and suffering. Doing the brother
tardy justice, it began dimly to dawn on her mind that she might have
done the sister injustice too. She had never known anything of Grace but
what was good. Could it be that she had been prejudiced, and proud, and
unjust from first to last?