f a deep silence, Mrs. Hart sprang up and turned her
white face toward Zillah. Her large, weird eyes seemed to burn
themselves into Zillah's brain. Her lips moved. It was but in a
whisper that she spoke:

"Never--never--never--mention it again--either to him or to me. It is
hell to both of us!"

She fell back again, moaning.

Zillah sat transfixed, awe-struck and wondering.

CHAPTER XX.

A MODEL NURSE, AND FRIEND IN NEED.

Zillah did not tell Hilda about the particular cause of the Earl's
sickness for some time, but Hilda was sufficiently acute to
conjecture what it might be. She was too wary to press matters, and
although she longed to know all, yet she refrained from asking. She
knew enough of Zillah's frank and confiding nature to feel sure that
the confidence would come of itself some day unasked. Zillah was one
of those who can not keep a secret. Warm-hearted, open, and
impulsive, she was ever on the watch for sympathy, and no sooner did
she have a secret than she longed to share it with some one. She had
divulged her secret to the Earl, with results that were lamentable.
She had partially disclosed it to Mrs. Hart, with results equally
lamentable. The sickness of the Earl and of Mrs. Hart was now added
to her troubles; and the time would soon come when, from the
necessities of her nature, she would be compelled to pour out her
soul to Hilda. So Hilda waited.

Mrs. Hart seemed to be completely broken down. She made a feeble
attempt to take part in nursing the Earl, but fainted away in his
room. Hilda was obliged to tell her that she would be of more use by
staying away altogether, and Mrs. Hart had to obey. She tottered
about, frequently haunting that portion of the house where the Earl
lay, and asking questions about his health. Zillah and Hilda were the
chief nurses, and took turns at watching. But Zillah was
inexperienced, and rather noisy. In spite of her affectionate
solicitude she could not create new qualities within herself, and in
one moment make herself a good nurse. Hilda, on the contrary, seemed
formed by nature for the sick-room. Stealthy, quiet, noiseless, she
moved about as silently as a spirit. Every thing was in its place.
The medicines were always arranged in the best order. The pillows
were always comfortable. The doctor looked at her out of his
professional eyes with cordial approval, and when he visited he gave
his directions always to her, as though she alone could be consi