stened, was made up of that old agony of rage and pity! The sufferings
of the poor, _because_ they were poor--these things often, still,
darkened earth and heaven for her. That wretch would have been quite
capable, no doubt, of conducting himself decently and even competently,
if he had been called to some supposed lady in one of the well-to-do
squares which made the centre of this poor and crowded district.

"Hullo, nurse!" said a cheery voice; "you seem to have got a bad case."

The sound was as music in Marcella's ears. The woman she held was fast
becoming unmanageable--had just shrieked, first for "poison," then for a
"knife," to kill herself with, and could hardly be prevented by the
combined strength of her nurse and Mrs. Levi, now from throwing herself
madly out of bed, and now from tearing out her black hair in handfuls.
The doctor--a young Scotchman with spectacles, and stubbly red
beard--came quickly up to the bed, asked Marcella a few short questions,
shrugged his shoulders over her dry report of Dr. Blank's proceedings,
then took out a black case from his pocket, and put his morphia syringe
together.

For a long time no result whatever could be obtained by any treatment.
The husband was sent for, and came trembling, imploring doctor and
nurse, in the intervals of his wife's paroxysms, not to leave him alone.

Marcella, absorbed in the tragic horror of the case, took no note of the
passage of time. Everything that the doctor suggested she carried out
with a deftness, a tenderness, a power of mind, which keenly affected
his professional sense. Once, the poor mother, left unguarded for an
instant, struck out with a wild right hand. The blow caught Marcella on
the cheek, and she drew back with a slight involuntary cry.

"You are hurt," said Dr. Angus, running up to her.

"No, no," she said, smiling through the tears that the shock had called
into her eyes, and putting him rather impatiently aside; "it is nothing.
You said you wanted some fresh ice."

And she went into the back room to get it.

The doctor stood with his hands in his pockets, studying the patient.

"You will have to send her to the infirmary," he said to the husband;
"there is nothing else for it."

Marcella came back with the ice, and was able to apply it to the head.
The patient was quieter--was, in fact, now groaning herself into a fresh
period of exhaustion.

The doctor's sharp eyes took note of the two figures, the huddled
creatur