ake?"

"No, Sir Marcus. It is very steady."

"What a pretty hand it is! How taper your fingers are; but you have
these dimples at the knuckles they say are such signs of cruelty."

"Oh, Sir Marcus!"

"Yes, they say so. Nana Sahib had them, and that woman--there, there,
you have given me thirty-seven."

"No, I assure you, Sir Marcus, only thirty-five. I'm a practised hand at
dropping medicine. My brother used to have violent headaches."

"And you always measured his drops, did you?"

"Always. I 'm quite a clever nurse, I assure you."

"Oh, dear! do you say so?" And as he laid down his glass he looked at
her with an expression of interest and admiration, which pushed her
gravity to its last limit.

"I don't believe a word about the cruelty they ascribe to those dimples.
I pledge you my word of honor I do not," said he, seriously.

"I 'm sincerely glad to hear you say so," said she, trying to seem
grave.

"And is your brother much of an invalid?"

"Not now. The damp climate of Ireland gave him headaches; but he rarely
has them here."

"Ah, and you have such a quiet way of moving about; that gentle gliding
step, so soothing to the sick. Oh, you don't know what a boon it is; and
the common people never have it, nor can they acquire it. When you went
to ring the bell, I said to myself, 'That 's it,--that's what all the
teaching in the world cannot impart.'"

"You will make me very vain, Sir Marcus. All the more that you give me
credit for merits I never suspected."

"Have you a cold hand?" asked he, with a look of eagerness.

"I really don't know. Perhaps I have."

"If I might dare. Ah," said he, with much feeling, as he touched her
hand in the most gentle manner--"ah! that is the greatest gift of nature
A small hand, perfect in form, beautiful in color, and cold as marble."

Julia could resist no longer, but laughed out one of those pleasant
merry laughs whose music make an echo in the heart.

"I know well enough what you are saying to yourself. I think I hear you
muttering, 'What an original, what a strange creature it is;' and so
I am, I won't deny it. One who has been an invalid for eighteen years;
eighteen years passed in the hard struggle with an indolent alimentary
system, for they say it 's no more. There 's nothing organic; nothing
whatever. Structurally, said Dr. Boreas of Leamington, structurally you
are as sound as a roach. I don't fully appreciate the comparison; but I
take it the roach mu