"You shall get well!"

And what with his skill and her endurance it turned out so.

CHAPTER IV.

CONVALESCENCE AND ACQUAINTANCE.

A man's clothing is his defence; but with a woman all dress is
adornment. Nature decrees it; adornment is her instinctive delight. And,
above all, the adorning of a bride; it brings out so charmingly the
meaning of the thing. Therein centres the gay consent of all mankind and
womankind to an innocent, sweet apostasy from the ranks of both. The
value of living--which is loving; the sacredest wonders of life; all
that is fairest and of best delight in thought, in feeling, yea, in
substance,--all are apprehended under the floral crown and hymeneal
veil. So, when at length one day Mrs. Richling said, "Madame Zenobie,
don't you think I might sit up?" it would have been absurd to doubt the
quadroon's willingness to assist her in dressing. True, here was neither
wreath nor veil, but here was very young wifehood, and its re-attiring
would be like a proclamation of victory over the malady that had striven
to put two hearts asunder. Her willingness could hardly be doubted,
though she smiled irresponsibly, and said:--

"If you thing"-- She spread her eyes and elbows suddenly in the manner
of a crab, with palms turned upward and thumbs outstretched--"Well!"--and
so dropped them.

"You don't want wait till de doctah comin'?" she asked.

"I don't think he's coming; it's after his time."

"Yass?"

The woman was silent a moment, and then threw up one hand again, with
the forefinger lifted alertly forward.

"I make a lill fi' biffo."

She made a fire. Then she helped the convalescent to put on a few loose
drapings. She made no concealment of the enjoyment it gave her, though
her words were few, and generally were answers to questions; and when
at length she brought from the wardrobe, pretending not to notice her
mistake, a loose and much too ample robe of woollen and silken stuffs to
go over all, she moved as though she trod on holy ground, and distinctly
felt, herself, the thrill with which the convalescent, her young eyes
beaming their assent, let her arms into the big sleeves, and drew about
her small form the soft folds of her husband's morning-gown.

"He goin' to fine that droll," said the quadroon.

The wife's face confessed her pleasure.

"It's as much mine as his," she said.

"Is you mek dat?" asked the nurse, as she drew its silken cord about the
convalescent's waist.

"