worst was
over and Langley was among the convalescent.

"The poor fellow and Bess Janner were my only stay," the young doctor was
wont to say. "Only such care as his would have saved you, and you had a
close race of it as it was."

During the convalescence nurse and invalid were drawn together with
a stronger tie through every hour. Wearied and weak, Langley's old
interest in the lad became a warm affection. He could scarcely bear to
lose sight of the awkward boyish figure, and never rested so completely
as when it was by his bedside.

"Give me your hand, dear fellow," he would say, "and let me hold it. I
shall sleep better for knowing you are near me."

He fell asleep thus one morning, and awakened suddenly to a
consciousness of some new presence in the room. Seth no longer sat in
the chair near his pillow, but stood a little apart; and surely he would
have been no lover if the feeble blood had not leaped in his veins at
the sight of the face bending over him--the innocent, fair young face
which had so haunted his pained and troubled dreams. "Cathie!" he cried
out aloud.

The-girl fell upon her knees and caught his extended hand with a
passionate little gesture of love and pity. "I did not know," she
poured forth in hurried, broken tones. "I have been away ever since
the sickness broke out at home. They sent me away, and I only heard
yesterday--Father, tell him, for I cannot."

He scarcely heard the more definite explanation, he was at once so happy
and so fearful.

"Sweetheart," he said, "I can scarcely bear to think of what may come
of this; and yet how blessed it is to have you near me again! The danger
for me is all over: even your dear self could not have cared for me more
faithfully than I have been cared for. Raynor there has saved my life."

But Cathie could only answer with a piteous, remorseful jealousy: "Why
was it not I who saved it? why was it not I?"

And the place where Seth had stood waiting was vacant, for he had left
it at the sound of Langley's first joyous cry. When he returned an hour
or so later, the more restful look Langley had fancied he had seen
on his face of late had faded out: the old unawakened heaviness had
returned. He was nervous and ill at ease, shrinking and conscious.

"I've comn to say good-neet to yo'," he said hesitatingly to the
invalid. "Th' young lady says as she an' her feyther will tak' my place
a bit. I'll coom i' th' mornin'."

"You want rest," said Langley; "