e she felt with no male friend to
counsel her; how bitterly disappointed she was that the last mail from
England did not bring her the expected funds which she so sorely needed;
how exorbitant the proprietor of the hotel was in his charges, taking
every possible advantage of her helpless condition; and how much she had
desired an adjoining room, in order that Bessie might have better air,
and those who took care of her more space.

"Not that it matters so very much, except for the air," she added; "for
I cannot afford a nurse, so there is one less breath in the room. Oh,
Mr. Jerrold, it is dreadful to be sick in Rome, with no friends and very
little money. If Neil were here, or my remittances from England would
come, it would be all right."

"No nurse," Grey exclaimed. "Have you no nurse for your daughter? Who,
then, takes care of her?"

"I do, with Miss Meredith's help. She is very kind, and occasionally one
of the servants in the hotel stays with us during the night; but I hear
Bessie moving, and I must go. I am so glad that you are here.
Good-morning."

It is needless to say that within two hours' time Grey's room was at
Daisy's disposal, and the proprietor had orders to charge the same to
Mr. Jerrold's account instead of Mrs. McPherson's, while Grey's own
luggage was transported to a little, close, eight-by-twelve apartment,
which smelled worse than old Mrs. Meredith's could possibly have smelled
with all her burnt brimstone and camphor and chloride of lime. The
physician, an Italian, was also interviewed, and a competent nurse
secured and introduced into the sick-room, and when Daisy protested that
she could not meet the expense, Grey said to her:

"Give yourself no uneasiness on that score; that is my business. We
cannot let Bessie die."

And then he asked to see her. Very cautiously he entered the room, and
with a great throb of pain in his heart stood looking upon the pallid
face and the bright blue eyes which met his inquiringly, but had in them
no sign of recognition. Taking one of her hands in his and bending over
her, Grey said, very softly:

"Do you know me, Bessie?"

There was tenderness and pity in the tone of his voice as he said the
name Bessie, and the sick girl looked at him curiously, as if struggling
to recall something in the far past; then a smile broke over her face
and the lip quivered a little as she replied:

"Yes, you are Neil. I have waited for you, I am so glad you have come."