rt would probably
have been my death-warrant. But night and day she never relaxed her
vigilance for one instant of the crisis of my malady. She took nothing
for granted, would trust no one else, but herself saw every order of
the doctor carried out, and, at a certain stage, fed me every ten
minutes, against my will, coaxing me to obedience, and never losing
heart or temper for one instant. And this although my petulance and
not infrequent assurances that I wished and preferred to die--"I was
so tired"--within the sick room, and my father's despair and bitter
groan that he would sacrifice every earthly possession to keep me
alive, outside it, would have caused many people to lose their heads.
In such an hour many a foolish, gossiping, half-educated woman, by
absolute faithfulness to the small details of her trust, by the
complete laying aside of personal needs and personal feelings, rises
to the sublimity of duty, and, ministering to the wants of another
with an unselfish vigilance almost perfect, earns that meed of praise
from men, which from time to time persists, in grateful hyperbole, to
liken her sex to the angels.

My poor father, whose irrepressible distress led to his being
forbidden to enter my room, powerless to help, and therefore without
alleviation for his anxiety, simply hung upon Nurse Bundle's orders
and reports, and relied utterly on her. Fortunately for his own
health, she gained sufficient influence to insist, almost as
peremptorily as in my case, upon his taking food. Often afterwards did
she describe how he and Rubens sat outside the door they were not
allowed to enter; and she used to declare that when she came out,
Rubens, as well as my father, turned an anxious and expectant
countenance towards her, and that both alike seemed to await and to
understand her report of my condition.

Only once did Nurse Bundle's self-possession threaten to fail her. It
was on my repeated and urgent request to "have the clergyman to pray
with me."

Mrs. Bundle, like most uneducated people, rather regarded the
visitation of the sick by the parish clergyman as a sort of extreme
unction or last sacrament. And to send for the parson seemed to her
tantamount to dismissing the doctor and ringing the passing bell. My
father was equally averse from the idea on other grounds. Moreover,
our old rector had gone, and the lately-appointed one was a stranger,
and rather an eccentric stranger, by all accounts.

For my own part