exclamation, two steps
forward,--the patient's eyes slowly open. Ah, me! It is Mary Richling.

"Good-morning, madam," said the physician, with a cold and distant bow;
and to the students, "We'll pass right along to the other side," and
they moved into the next aisle.

"I am a little pressed for time this morning," he presently remarked, as
the students showed some unwillingness to be hurried. As soon as he
could he parted with them and returned to the ward alone.

As he moved again down among the sick, straight along this time, turning
neither to right nor left, one of the Sisters of Charity--the hospital
and its so-called nurses are under their oversight--touched his arm. He
stopped impatiently.

"Well, Sister"--(bowing his ear).

"I--I--the--the"--His frown had scared away her power of speech.

"Well, what is it, Sister?"

"The--the last patient down on this side"--

He was further displeased. "_I'll_ attend to the patients, Sister," he
said; and then, more kindly, "I'm going there now. No, you stay here, if
you please." And he left her behind.

He came and stood by the bed. The patient gazed on him.

"Mrs. Richling," he softly began, and had to cease.

She did not speak or move; she tried to smile, but her eyes filled, her
lips quivered.

"My dear madam," exclaimed the physician, in a low voice, "what brought
you here?"

The answer was inarticulate, but he saw it on the moving lips.

"Want," said Mary.

"But your husband?" He stooped to catch the husky answer.

"Home."

"Home?" He could not understand. "Not gone to--back--up the river?"

She slowly shook her head: "No, home. In Prieur street."

Still her words were riddles. He could not see how she had come to this.
He stood silent, not knowing how to utter his thought. At length he
opened his lips to speak, hesitated an instant, and then asked:--

"Mrs. Richling, tell me plainly, has your husband gone wrong?"

Her eyes looked up a moment, upon him, big and staring, and suddenly she
spoke:--

"O Doctor! My husband go wrong? John go wrong?" The eyelids closed down,
the head rocked slowly from side to side on the flat hospital pillow,
and the first two tears he had ever seen her shed welled from the long
lashes and slipped down her cheeks.

"My poor child!" said the Doctor, taking her hand in his. "No, no! God
forgive me! He hasn't gone wrong; he's not going wrong. You'll tell me
all about it when you're stronger."

The Doctor had her re