in.

"Yes, you shall have Jeanne--you shall have anything you want," he
answered at length, quietly. "Only get well. Forgive me all this
if you can."

Josephine's lips trembled. "May I go?" she demanded of him.

There was a strange gentleness in his voice. "You're hurt. It
would be impossible for you to go now. Don't be afraid. Don't!
Don't!"

She looked at him keenly, in spite of her suffering. There seemed
some change about him. At length, heavily, his head sunk, he left
the room.

Jeanne herself, sobbing, tearful, withal overjoyed, rejoined her
mistress. The two embraced as was best possible. As her senses
cleared, a sort of relief came over Josephine. Now, she began to
reason, for the time she was shielded by this infirmity; comforted
also by the presence of one as weak and helpless as herself.

"It's an ill wind, Jeanne, which blows no one good," she smiled
bravely. "See, now we are together again."

"Madame!" gulped Jeanne. "Madame!"

"Fie, fie, Jeanne! In time we shall be away from here."

"Madame, I like it not--this house. Something here is wrong. We
must fly!"

"But, Jeanne, I am helpless. We must wait, now."

All that night and till morning of the next day they waited, alone,
Dunwody not appearing, though continually old Sally brought up
proofs of his solicitousness. At last there came the sound of
hoofs on the gravel road, and there alighted at the door,
dust-covered and weary, old Eleazar and Jamieson, the doctor of St.
Genevieve. These were met by the master of Tallwoods himself.

"Listen now, Jamieson," said Dunwody, "You're here by my call. You
understand me, and understand the rules of your own profession.
Ask no questions here. Your patient has broken an arm--there has
been an accident. That's all you need to know, I think. Your job
is to get her well, as soon as you can. You're a doctor, not a
lawyer; that's all."

He led the way to the door of Josephine's room, and the doctor,
stained with travel as he was, entered. He was an old man, gray
and lean, consumed in his time by fevers and chills, in the
treatment of which he was perhaps more skilful than in surgery. He
approached the couch not unkindly and stood in preliminary
professional scrutiny of his patient. The face turned toward him,
framed in its dark roll of hair, caused him to start with surprise.
Even thus flushed in the fever of pain, it seemed to him no face
ever was more beautiful. Who was she?