k like that, Cuthbert, and you must not think so. The
doctor says that although, of course, you are badly wounded, he thinks
there is every hope for you."

"So the surgeon said who dressed my wounds last night, Mary, but I knew
that he did not really think so."

"But I am sure Dr. Swinburne does think so, Cuthbert. I am certain that
he was not trying to deceive me."

"Well, I hope that he is right," Cuthbert replied, but with the
indifference common to men in extreme weakness. "I should certainly like
to give the finishing touches to those two pictures. There is nothing
else to show for my life. Yes, I should like to finish them. You are
looking bad yourself," he added, suddenly, "all this is too much for
you."

"I am only tired," she said, "and of course it has been trying work for
the last twenty-four hours."

"Well, you must go home and get some rest. If I had been going soon I
should have liked you to have stopped with me till I went, but if, as
you say, the doctor thinks I may last for a time it does not matter, and
I would rather know that you were getting a rest than that you were
wearing yourself out here. What o'clock is it now?"

"It is just two. Please don't worry about me. If I were to break down
there are plenty to take my place, but I am not going to. Anyhow I shall
wait to hear what Dr. Swinburne says when he next comes round, and then
if the report is favorable I shall go home for the night and be here
again the first thing in the morning. Are you in much pain, Cuthbert?"

"No, I am in no pain at all. I just feel numbed and a little drowsy, and
my feet are cold."

Mary went away, filled a tin bottle with hot water and placed it at his
feet, and then covered them over with another rug.

"Now you must not talk any more, Cuthbert. Your hands are cold, let me
put the rug over them. There, you look more comfortable. Now shut your
eyes and try to get to sleep until the doctor comes round."

Cuthbert closed his eyes at once. Mary went about the ward doing her
work for the next two hours, returning at frequent intervals to the
bedside, and seeing with satisfaction that he was sleeping quietly. At
four o'clock the surgeon came in. She was occupied in serving out some
soup to the patients and did not go round with him. She had finished her
work when he returned to where she was standing near the entrance.

"I did not wake him," he said, in answer to her look, "but his pulse is
stronger, and the action