examined the contents of the paper: it was a very small quantity
of dark brown powder, and, by the directions of Mynheer Poots, to be
given in a tumbler of warm wine. Mynheer Poots had offered to heat the
wine. His return from the kitchen broke Amine's meditations.

"Here is the wine, my child; now give him a whole tumbler of wine, and
the powder, and let him be covered up warm, for the perspiration will
soon burst out, and it must not be checked. Watch him, Amine, and keep
the clothes on, and he will be well to-morrow morning." And Mynheer
Poots quitted the room, saying, "Good-night, my child."

Amine poured out the powder into one of the silver mugs upon the
table, and then proceeded to mix it up with the wine. Her suspicions
had, for the time, been removed by the kind tone of her father's
voice. To do him justice as a medical practitioner, he appeared always
to be most careful of his patients. When Amine mixed the powder, she
examined and perceived that there was no sediment, and the wine was as
clear as before. This was unusual, and her suspicions revived.

"I like it not," said she; "I fear my father--God help me!--I hardly
know what to do--I will not give it to Philip. The warm wine may
produce perspiration sufficient."

Amine paused, and again reflected. She had mixed the powder with so
small a portion of wine that it did not fill a quarter of the cup; she
put it on one side, filled another up to the brim with the warm wine,
and then went up to the bedroom.

On the landing-place she was met by her father, whom she supposed to
have retired to rest.

"Take care you do not spill it, Amine. That is right, let him have a
whole cupful. Stop, give it to me; I will take it to him myself."

Mynheer Poots took the cup from Amine's hands, and went into Philip's
room.

"Here, my son, drink this off, and you will be well," said Mynheer
Poots, whose hand trembled so that he spilt the wine on the coverlet.
Amine, who watched her father, was more than ever pleased that she had
not put the powder into the cup. Philip rose on his elbow, drank off
the wine, and Mynheer Poots then wished him good-night.

"Do not leave him, Amine, I will see all right," said Mynheer Poots,
as he left the room. And Amine, who had intended to go down for the
candle left in the parlour, remained with her husband, to whom she
confided her feelings, and also the fact that she had not given him
the powder.

"I trust that you are mistaken, Amin