b.

"He is doing well now. He is indebted to your energy and presence of
mind for his life," said the doctor.

"Oh, thank God! thank God, that he is better! Do you think, sir, that
he will recover?"

"He may, but it is doubtful. I shall not be able to decide until he
awakes. Meanwhile, lady, lie down, and rest. I will watch."

"I could not sleep, sir; if I could, I would obey your directions; but
I will rest my head on the sofa here, that I may be better able to
attend to my duties to-day," said May, in her earnest, matter-of-fact
sort of way. And the doctor, a young man who was rising rapidly in his
profession--a son of the people, who, through difficulties and rugged
obstacles, and calumny and opposition, had emerged purified, and
conscious of power from it all, and attained an honorable position
professionally and socially, looked at that fragile form, and paid
homage to the right-thinking and right-acting spirit it contained. Her
conduct had been heroic, noble, and evinced so much strength of
character that even he, accustomed to phenomena, mental and physical,
wondered. He knew not _whence_ she derived her strength; he had no
idea of that divine charity which gives Titan power to the weak, and
considers life itself of little worth when it does battle for the
salvation of souls. It was a mystery, the effects of which he had
witnessed, but could trace no further than the comparative harmony of
physiology. Towards sunrise, Mr. Stillinghast turned uneasy on his
pillow, and opened his eyes. He looked around him with a puzzled,
angry look; his bound-up arm--his garments clotted with blood--the
confusion into which his room was thrown--the strange man watching by
his bedside--May resting on the old sofa--what meant it all? He tried
to call out, but could only whisper.

"What's all this? Have I been robbed? Who are _you_?"

"I hope you feel a great deal better, Mr. Stillinghast. You have been
quite ill, sir," said the doctor, soothingly. "I am Dr. Burrell; allow
me to feel your pulse."

"For what? I never was sick in my life. I never had my pulse felt,"
he said, doggedly.

"How does your head feel, sir?"

"My head! ah, my head feels shaky. Call _her_ here."

May was beside him in a moment, holding his hand, and looking down into
his white pinched features with commiseration.

"What's all this, child? Why are you here?"

"You have been very ill, dear uncle. You know you were poorly last