e? That she was the affianced wife of Cuthbert
Hartington?"

Mary thought for a moment.

"No, she did not use those words, at least, not that I can remember; but
it was not necessary, I knew who she was. I have seen the sketches in
your book, and there were several of them on the walls of your room. Of
course I knew who she was speaking of, though she did not, so far as I
can remember, use your name."

"Did it never occur to you, Miss Brander, that it was a natural thing
one should have many sketches of the girl who always stood as a model in
the studio, and that every student there would have his sketch-book full
of them? Did you not know that there were three or four other wounded
men of the same corps as myself in the hospital; that one at least was a
fellow-student of mine, and also a foreigner, and that this young woman
was just as likely to be asking to see him as to see me?"

An awful feeling of doubt and shame came with overpowering force over
Mary Brander.

"No," she said, desperately, "I never thought of such a thing. Naturally
I thought it was you, and there was no reason why it shouldn't be. You
were perfectly free to please yourself, only I felt hurt that when you
got better you did not tell me."

Her voice was so weak that Cuthbert poured some water into a glass and
held it to her lips.

"Now, child," he went on in a lighter voice, "I am not going to scold
you--you are too weak to be scolded. Some day I may scold you as you
deserve. Not only is Minette--I told you her name before--nothing to me,
but I dislike her as a passionate, dangerous young woman; capable,
perhaps, of good, but certainly capable of evil. However, I regret to
say that Arnold Dampierre, the man who was in the next bed to me, you
know, does not see her in the same light, and I am very much afraid he
will be fool enough to marry her. Actually, she did a few days later
obtain permission to see him, and has, I believe, seen him several times
since; but as he was moved out of your ward whilst I was battling with
the fever, I have not seen her. Now don't cry, child, you have been a
goose, but there is no harm done, and you ought to be glad to know that
your old friend is not going to make a fool of himself; and he can still
be regarded by you as truthful and honorable. Do you think I would have
taken you round to my rooms if I had been going to make her their
mistress?"

"Don't, don't!" the girl cried. "Don't say anything more, Cuth