had seen so many of these unprepossessing English
waiting-women that he understood the state of her feelings as by
instinct. He turned to her with all the blandness possible under the
circumstances, and gave her an order which would call for her presence
down-stairs.

When she departed, as she did in a state bordering on petrification, he
came forward to the bedside. He did not speak, however; merely looking
down at his patient in a silence whose delicacy was worthy of honor,
even in a shrivelled little snuff-taking, French, village doctor. The
pretty young mademoiselle would be calmer before many minutes had
elapsed--his experience had taught him. And so she was. At least, her
first shock of terror wore away, and she was calm enough to speak to
him. She lifted her face from the motionless hand, and looked up at him
in a wild appeal for help, that was more than touching.

"Don't say he will die!" she prayed. "Oh, monsieur, only save him, and
he will bless you forever. I will nurse him so well. Only give me
something to do, and see how faithful I shall prove. I shall never
forget anything, and I shall never be tired--if--if he can only live,
monsieur," the terrified catching of her breath making every little
pause almost a sob.

"My child," he answered her, with a grave touch of something quite like
affection in his air. "My child, I shall save him, if he is to be saved,
and you shall help me."

How faithfully she held to the very letter of her promises, only this
little, shrivelled village doctor could say. How tender, and watchful,
and loving she was, in her care of her charge, only he could bear
witness. She was never tired--never forgetful. She held to her place in
the poor little bedroom, day and night, with an intensity of zeal that
was actually astonishing. Priscilla Gower and Pamela North might have
been more calm--certainly would have been more self-possessed, but they
could not have been more faithful. She obeyed every order given to her
like a child. She sat by the bedside, hour after hour, day and night,
watching every change of symptom, noting every slight alteration of
color, or pulse.

The friendship between herself and monsieur, the doctor, so strengthened
that the confidence between them was unlimited. She was only disobedient
in one thing. She would not leave her place either for food or rest. She
ate her poor little dinners near her patient, and, if the truth had been
known, scarcely slept at all