nd that held the cup.

Standish sadly smiled a little, and passed on to the next bed where lay
Desire Minter, not so ill, but far more requiring than Priscilla.

"Here is thy draught, child," said the nurse kindly, as he raised her
head and put the cup to her lips. Swallowing it eagerly, she lifted her
jealous eyes and with a smile half cunning, half pathetic, whispered,--

"I love thee too, but I think it not maidenly to kiss thee till I'm
asked."

"Nay, girl, thou 'rt dreaming or wild," said the Captain soothingly.
"She, poor maid, is distraught, and took me for her mother. She loves me
not, nor dost thou, nor do I ask any woman's love."

"Nay, then, thou 'rt mocking me. Thou dost love her, and she loves thee,
for I've heard her say as much; but still I know one that loves thee
better."

"If thou were not so ill, Desire, I'd find it in my heart to say--but
there, sleep poor child, sleep! Thou knowst not what thou sayst."

And Standish turned impatiently away to Bradford who suffered
excruciatingly that night with inflammatory rheumatism in the hip-joint.

The next morning Priscilla awaking refreshed, and for the moment quite
herself, found her neighbor weeping passionately, yet from time to time
regarding her in so peculiar a fashion that she said softly,--

"What is it, Desire? Art thou in sore pain?"

"It ill fits thee to pity me when it is thou that hast done me such
despite," whimpered Desire sullenly.

"I! what dost thou mean?"

"Why, I have ever liked our Captain since first I saw him, and now his
wife is dead and buried, why should he not marry me as well as another?"

"Why not, if it pleaseth him? I forbid not the banns," replied
Priscilla, the dim wraith of her old smile passing across her face.

"Why not? Because thou hast bewitched him, thou naughty sprite, and thou
knowest it."

"What dost thou mean, Desire? Speak out and done with it, for thou
weariest me sore," exclaimed Priscilla impatiently, while the fever
began to streak her pallid cheek and flame in her great eyes.

"Why, I saw you two kissing last night, and I suppose you're promised to
each other," muttered the other sulkily, and Priscilla, rising on her
elbow, fixed on her a glance beneath which the coward quailed, yet
sullenly murmured,--

"Well, you did!"

"Desire Minter, thou art lying, and thou knowest it, or else thy wits
are distraught, or mine."

"Ah, 't is well to try to edge out of it by brow-beating me, but thou