faint, cheerless smile.

"He is afraid," Sydney went on, with the air of one who repeats a
lesson, "that you are drifting into a state of hopeless invalidism,
which you might still avoid. Once in that state you would not die, Nan,
as you might like to do: you would live for years in helpless, useless,
suffering. Nan, my dear, it is very hard for me to say this to you"--his
voice quivering--"but I promised Burrows, for your own sake, that I
would. Such a life, Nan, would be torture to you; and you have still
within your power--you can prevent it if you chose."

"It seems to me very cruel to say so," Nan answered, quietly. "What can
I do that I have not done? I have taken all the doctors' remedies and
done exactly as they bade me. I am very tired of being ill and weak, I
assure you. It is not my fault that I should like to die."

She began to cry a little as she spoke. Her mouth and chin quivered: the
tears ran slowly over her white cheeks. Sydney drew a step nearer.

"No, it isn't your fault," he said, hoarsely, "it is mine. I believe I
am killing you by inches. Do you want to make me feel myself a murderer?
Could you not--even for my poor sake--_try_ to get stronger, Nan, _try_
to take an interest in something--something healthy and reasonable? That
is what Dr. Burrows says you need; and I can't do this thing for you; I,
whom you don't love any longer," he said, with a sudden fury of passion
which stopped her tears at once, "but who love _you_ with all my heart,
as I never loved in all my life before--I swear it before God!"

He stopped short: he had not meant to speak of his love for her, only to
urge her to make that effort over her languor and her indifference which
the great physician said she must make before her health could be
restored. Nan lay looking at him, the tears drying on her pale cheeks,
her lips parted, her eyes unusually bright; but she did not speak.

"If there was anything I could do to please you," her husband went on in
a quieter tone, "I would do it. Would you care, for instance, to live
abroad? Burrows recommends a bracing air. If you would go with me to
Norway or Switzerland--at once; and then pass the winter at Davos, or
any place you liked; perhaps you would care for that? Is there nothing
you would like to do? You used to say you wanted to see India----"

"But your work!" she broke in suddenly. "_You_ could not go: it is
useless to talk of an impossibility."

"If it would make you bett