esses you, my good woman? Perhaps, if I knew the cause, I might
be able to render you some service."

"It is not my body,--that, you know, is numb, and gives me no
pain,--but my mind! Doctor, I am suffering in mind, and you have no
medicine that can ease that."

"Possibly I may accomplish more than you imagine is within reach of my
remedies. Of one thing you may rest assured,--you will never have
reason to regret any confidence you may repose in me."

"Dr. Grey, I believe you are a Christian; at least, I have heard so;
and, since my affliction, I have been watching you very closely, and
begin to think I can trust you. Are you a member of the church?"

"I am; although that fact alone should not entitle me to your
confidence. We are all erring, and full of faults, but I endeavor to
live in such a manner that I shall not bring disgrace upon the holy
faith I profess."

"Shut the door, and come back to me."

He bolted the door, which stood ajar, and resumed his seat.

"Dr. Grey, I know as well as you do that I can't last a great while,
and I ought to prepare for what may overtake me any day. I have tried
to live in accordance with the law of God, and I am not afraid to die;
but I am afraid to leave my mistress behind me. When I am gone there
will be no one to watch over and plead with her, and I dread lest her
precious soul may be lost. She won't go to God for herself, or by
herself, and who will pray for her salvation when I am in my shroud?
Oh, I can not die in peace, leaving her alone in the world she hates
and despises! What will become of my poor, bonnie bairn?"

Elsie sobbed aloud, and Dr. Grey asked,--

"Has Mrs. Gerome no living relatives?"

"None, sir, in America. There are some cousins in Scotland, but she
has never seen them, and never will."

"Where are the members of her husband's family?"

A visible shudder crept over that portion of the woman's body which
was not paralyzed, and her face grew dark and stern.

"He was an orphan."

"His loss seems to have had a terrible effect upon Mrs. Gerome, and
rendered her bitter and hopeless."

"How hopeless, none but she and I and the God above us know. Once she
was the meekest, sweetest spirit, that ever gladdened a nurse's heart,
and I thought the world was blessed by her coming into it; but now she
is sacrilegious and scoffing, and almost dares the Lord's judgments.
Dr. Grey, it would nearly freeze your blood to hear her sometimes.
Poor thing! she wil