sister, and had not one thought for
her own calamities. What could all this mean?--was it any new phase or
form of supplication, or was it really that there did exist one in the
world whose poverty was above wealth, and whose simple nature was more
exalted than rank or station?

With all these conflicting thoughts, and all the emotions which
succeeded to the various tidings he had heard, the old Count sat
overwhelmed by the cares that pressed upon him; nor was it for some
hours after Midchekoff's departure that he could rally his faculties to
be "up and doing."

The buzz and murmur of voices in an outer room first recalled him
to active thought, and he learned that several officers, recently
exchanged, had come to offer their thanks for his kind intervention. The
duty, which was a mere ceremony, passed over rapidly, and he was once
more alone, when he heard the slow and heavy tread of a foot ascending
the stairs, one by one, stopping at intervals, too, as though the effort
was one of great labor. Like the loud ticking of a clock to the watchful
ears of sickness, there was something in the measured monotony of the
sounds that grated and jarred his irritated nerves, and he called out
harshly:

"Who comes there?"

No answer was returned; and, after a pause of a few seconds, the same
sound recurred.

"Who's there?" cried the old man, louder; and a faint, inaudible attempt
at reply followed.

And now, provoked by the interruption, he arose to see the cause; when
the door slowly opened, and Frank stood before him, pale and bloodless,
with one arm in a sling, and supporting himself on a stick with the
other. His wasted limbs but half filled his clothes; while in his
lustreless eye and quivering lip there seemed the signs of coming death.

With an instinct of kindness, the old General drew out a chair and
pressed the poor boy down upon it. The youth kissed the hand as it
touched him, and then heaved a heavy sigh.

"This exertion was unfit for you, my poor boy," said the Count, kindly.
"They should not have permitted you to leave your bed."

"It was my fault, not theirs, General. I heard that you were about to
leave the village without coming to the hospital, and I thought, as
perhaps----," here his voice faltered, and a gulping fulness of the
throat seemed almost to choke him--"that as, perhaps, we might never
meet again in this world, I ought to make one effort to see you, and
tell you that I am not, nor ever was,