ed anything Mr. Clement can call Aunt."

There was a pause after Mr. Ross went. Then she added in the same
gentle, emotionless way: "Poor papa! He is a martyr to me. He thinks
he must sit by me always. I think he fears I may die while he is
gone."

Clement leaned forward till his eyes were on a level with those of the
girl, and his voice was very calm and penetrating as he said:

"What can I do for you, Miss Ross? I have the profoundest conviction
that I can do you good."

A startled look came into the big brown eyes. She looked at him as a
babe might, striving to comprehend.

He went on, "Here I am a millionaire, a strong young man--what can I
do for you?"

"I think I understand you," she said slowly. "It's very good of you,
but you can do nothing."

"It is impossible," he broke forth in answer, and his voice gave her a
perceptible shock. "There must be something I can do. If it will help
you there is my arm--its blood is yours." He stammered a little. "It
isn't right that one so young and beautiful should die. We won't let
you die. There must be something I can do. This wind and sun--and the
good water will work with us to do you good."

His voice moved her, and she smiled with the tears on her lashes. "It
does me good just to look at you. You are so big and brown. I saw you
at the spring last night. Perhaps I have come at last----" She
coughed--a weak, flat sound which made him shudder.

She tried to reassure him. "Really, I have coughed less than at any
time during the last five months."

He faced her again. "Miss Ross, I felt last night a sudden desire to
help you. I believed I had the power to help you--I don't know
why--I'm not a healer." He smiled for the first time. "But I felt
perfectly sure I could do you good. I feel that way now. I never had
such a feeling toward any person before. It is just as strange to me
as it is to you."

She was looking at him now with musing eyes.

"That is the curious part of it," she said. "It doesn't seem strange
at all. It seems as if I had been wanting to hear your voice--as if I
had known of you all my life----" She tried to suppress her coughing,
and he was in agony during the paroxysm. The nurse came hurrying out,
and while he waited at one side Clement felt that if he could have
taken her by the hands he could have prevented it. It was a singular
conviction, but it was most definite, and had a peculiar air of
actuality.

When she lay quiet he approached ag