said, after
watching Madelon for a minute as she lay in her uneasy sleep.

"Yes," said Jeanne-Marie with a certain sullenness of manner,
which she was apt to display towards her superiors in station.

"Has she been here long?" said the doctor, feeling Madelon's
pulse, but looking steadily at the woman; "when was she taken
ill? How is it you have not called me in before?"

"Look here, Monsieur le Docteur," answered Jeanne-Marie with a
sort of stolid defiance, "I called you in to tell me what to
do for the child, not to put me through a catechism. She
fainted away this morning, and when she came to herself again,
she began to rave and talk nonsense, so I sent for you. Now
tell me what is to be done."

Just then Madelon opened her eyes.

"Do you not know me, Madame?" she said. "I am Madeleine
Linders, and papa is dead; he sent me to be with Aunt Therese,
but she is dead too--Oh, save me, save me!" she cried,
springing up with all the old terror upon her; "don't let them
take me, papa, you made me promise that I would not stay
there. Tell Aunt Therese to go away, papa; papa, save me!" and
she clung to the doctor's arm. "Besides, you know," she went
on, speaking fast and eagerly, "I promised him--Monsieur
Horace, you know--and I must keep it, I must keep my promise to
Monsieur Horace,--I must, I must!"

"You hear?" said Jeanne-Marie, as Madelon fell back on the
pillow again muttering to herself.

"I hear," answered the doctor, "and I see that she is in a
high fever, and it may go hard with her, poor child! It is
fortunate she is with you, Jeanne-Marie," he went on, kindly,
"for you are a capital nurse, I know; but I am afraid it will
be a long business."

"That is no matter," she answered.

"If you would like to have her removed to the hospital at
Liege," continued the doctor, doubtfully, "it might still be
done. It may injure your business to have her here. Still, as
you say she is your niece----"

"As I say she is my niece," returned Jeanne-Marie, abruptly,
"it is not likely I should turn her out of the house, and that
is enough. My business will take care of itself. And now tell
me what I am to do, doctor?"

He prescribed for Madelon, said he would call again, and left
the house, pondering on the woman who kept so apart from her
neighbours, and on her small visitor, who he knew well enough
was not her niece, for had not Jacques Monnier told him how
Jeanne-Marie had suddenly come in out of the rain, carr