daughter's tangle of brown
hair with a faint smile, while her breathing, which had grown quick and
panting, gradually subsided. Emily looked up at Marcella with a
terrified self-reproach. They all knew that any sudden excitement might
kill out the struggling flame of life.

"You ought to rest a little, Mrs. Jervis," said Marcella, with gentle
authority. "You know the dressing must tire you, though you won't
confess it. Let me put you comfortable. There; aren't the pillows easier
so? Now rest--and good-bye."

But Mrs. Jervis held her, while Emily slipped away.

"I shall rest soon," she said significantly. "An' it hurts me when Emily
talks like that. It's the only thing that ever comes atween us. She
thinks o' forms an' ceremonies; an' _I_ think o' _grace_."

Her old woman's eyes, so clear and vivid under the blanched brow,
searched Marcella's face for sympathy. But Marcella stood, shy and
wondering in the presence of words and emotions she understood so
little. So narrow a life, in these poor rooms, under these crippling
conditions of disease!--and all this preoccupation with, this passion
over, the things not of the flesh, the thwarted, cabined flesh, but of
the spirit--wonderful!

* * * * *

On coming out from Brown's Buildings, she turned her steps reluctantly
towards a street some distance from her own immediate neighbourhood,
where she had a visit to pay which filled her with repulsion and an
unusual sense of helplessness. A clergyman who often availed himself of
the help of the St. Martin's nurses had asked the superintendent to
undertake for him "a difficult case." Would one of their nurses go
regularly to visit a certain house, ostensibly for the sake of a little
boy of five just come back from the hospital, who required care at home
for a while, _really_ for the sake of his young mother, who had suddenly
developed drinking habits and was on the road to ruin?

Marcella happened to be in the office when the letter arrived. She
somewhat unwillingly accepted the task, and she had now paid two or
three visits, always dressing the child's sore leg, and endeavouring to
make acquaintance with the mother. But in this last attempt she had not
had much success. Mrs. Vincent was young and pretty, with a flighty,
restless manner. She was always perfectly civil to Marcella, and
grateful to her apparently for the ease she gave the boy. But she
offered no confidences; the rooms she and he