nothing more on that subject. She would wait for another
and a better time to tell him about that. The story of her devotion
and of her suffering might yet be made known to him, but not now,
when he had but partly recovered from his delirium.

Little more was said. In about an hour the nurse came in and sat near
him. After some time the doctor came and congratulated him.

"Let me congratulate you, my lord," said he, "on your favorable
condition. You owe your life to Lady Chetwynde, whose devotion has
surpassed any thing that I have ever seen. She has done every
thing--I have done nothing."

Lord Chetwynde made some commonplace compliment to his skill, and
then asked him how long it would be before he might recover.

"That depends upon circumstances," said the doctor. "Rest and quiet
are now the chief things which are needed. Do not be too impatient,
my lord. Trust to these things, and rely upon the watchful care of
Lady Chetwynde."

Lord Chetwynde said nothing. To Hilda, who had listened eagerly to
this conversation, though she lay with closed eyes, his silence was
perplexing, She could not tell whether he had softened toward her or
not. A great fear arose within 'her that all her labor might have
been in vain; but her matchless patience came to her rescue. She
would wait--she would wait--she should at last gain the reward of her
patient waiting.

The doctor, after fully attending to Lord Chetwynde, turned to her.

"You are weak, my lady," he said, with respectful sympathy, and full
of pity for this devoted wife, who seemed to him only to live in her
husband's presence. "You must take more care of yourself for _his_
sake."

Hilda murmured some inarticulate words, and the doctor, after some
further directions, withdrew.

Days passed on. Lord Chetwynde grew stronger every day. He saw Hilda
as his chief attendant and most devoted nurse. He marked her pale
face, her wan features, and the traces of suffering which still
remained visible. He saw that all this had been done for his sake.
Once, when she was absent taking some short rest, he had missed that
instant attention which she had shown. With a sick man's impatience,
he was troubled by the clumsiness of the hired nurse, and contrasted
it with Hilda's instant readiness, and gentle touch, and soft voice
of love.

At last, one day when Hilda was giving him some medicine, the vial
dropped from her hands, and she sank down senseless by his bedside.
She was carr