dentity.

Hers was not a nature to do anything by halves, and every faculty of mind
and body became absorbed in these new duties. The patient who fell into
Cecil's hands had little to complain of. She struggled for his life when
even the shadow of death had fallen on him, and sometimes, by arduous
exertions and devoted nursing, saved one in whom the vital flame had
wasted almost to the socket. And then a nearly divine content came to her
as she imagined she might have spared some distant heart the pangs that
had almost broken her own.

But to follow her through the daily routine of duties, often painful,
often touching, would be too long for the present history, so we pass
abruptly to one event, a necessary link in it.

Cecil was attending a fever case, and looking anxiously for the doctor,
as she fancied her patient was sinking. He was a young man, and had been
more or less unconscious ever since he was brought in.

The surgeon came, and shook his head as he felt the feeble pulse.

"Is there no hope?" asked Cecil, sorrowfully.

"Scarcely any. Give him this stimulant whenever you can get him to
swallow it; but there seems no reserve of strength." And he passed on
to others.

She lost no time in attending to his directions, and a large pair of
melancholy brown eyes opened on her. They watched her about persistently,
and seeing their gaze, though languid, was rational, she asked "if there
was anything she could do for him."

His voice was so inaudible she could but just catch the sentence, "So he
gives me over!"

"I don't think he would if he could see you now. Indeed, you seem
better."

"I don't think I shall die; but, in case of accidents, will you write
something for me?"

Cecil nodded, while holding rapid communion with herself. Ought she to
let him exhaust his little strength in dictating probably an agitating
letter?

"Will you wait till you are a little stronger?" she said doubtfully.

"If I ever am, it will not be necessary to write; if otherwise I cannot
do it too soon."

Cecil, judging by her own feelings that opposition to any strong wish
would be more injurious than even imprudent indulgence, glided from the
room, and soon returned with writing materials.

She sat down by the bed, and casually felt the attenuated wrist as she
did so. The sick man gazed gratefully at her, but waited some minutes for
breath to commence. His first words made her almost bound from her chair,
and, as he continue