rawing to its close, and more
light was needed ere she could distinguish marked bottles, and doses,
and the rest of the appurtenances of dangerous illness.

An English nurse would have forbidden the presence of a stranger; this
French one acted with more discretion if less of strict science.

"Madam is his sister, perhaps?" she whispered.

"No."

"A relative, then?"

"No; a woman who loves him."

That heartbroken admission told the whole tale to the quick-witted
Frenchwoman. There had been a duel; one man was seriously injured; the
other, she had heard, was also receiving medical attention in another
hotel--the _temoins_, wistful to avoid the interrogation of the law,
had so arranged--and here was the woman who had caused the quarrel.

Well, such was the will of Providence! These things had been since man
and woman were expelled from Paradise--for the nurse, though a devout
Catholic, suspected that Genesis had suppressed certain details of the
first fratricide--and would continue, she supposed, until the
Millennium.

She nodded cheerfully.

"There is every reason to hope, but he must not be disturbed--not
excited, that is," she added, seeing the wan agony in Cynthia's face.

The girl tiptoed to the side of the bed. Medenham's eyes were closed,
but he was muttering something. She bent and kissed his forehead, and
a strange smile broke through the tense lines of pain. Even in his
semi-conscious state he felt the touch of those exquisite lips.

"My Lady Alice!" he said.

She choked back a sob. He was dreaming of "Comus"--standing with her
in the ruined banqueting hall of Ludlow Castle.

"Yes, your Lady Alice," she breathed.

A slight quiver shook him.

"Don't tell Cynthia," he said brokenly. "She must never know.... Ah,
if I hadn't slipped, I would have quieted his viperish tongue.... But
Cynthia must not know!"

"Oh, my dear, my dear, Cynthia does know! It is you who know not. Kind
Heaven, let him live! Grant that I may tell him all that I know!"

She could not help it; the words welled forth of their own accord; but
the nurse touched her arm gently.

"It is a little fever," she whispered with ready sympathy. "Soon it
will pass. He will sleep, and, when he awakes, it is perhaps
permissible that you should speak to him."

* * * * *

Well, it was permissible. The age of miracles had not passed for those
two. Even the experienced doctor marveled at the strength of a ma