e most faithful of friends and
nurses. I knew you quite well, and I knew _her_ too!"

Gaston bounded from his chair, breathing so hard that he could scarcely
stammer out, "Her! who--o--o--om do you me--e--ean?"

"Madeleine," replied Maurice, confidently.

"Mademoiselle Mad--ad--adeleine; you are dream--eaming!"

"No! I thought so at first, and the dream was so sweet that I would not
break it by word or motion, fearing that I should discover it was not
reality. But it was no _dream_. Night after night,--how many I do not
know--I could not count,--I have seen Madeleine beside me! When the good
'sister' moved about the room, in the dim light of the _veilleuse_, in
spite of her coarse, unshapely garb, I recognized the outlines of
Madeleine's form; notwithstanding the uncouth bonnet, and the white
bandage that concealed her hair and brow, and, passing beneath her chin,
almost hid her face, I recognized the features of Madeleine. I watched
her as she glided about the room, and with her delicate, noiseless,
rapidly moving touch created the most perfect order around her. I heard
her as she softly sang sweet anthems, and I could not mistake the voice
of Madeleine. I felt her hand, her cool, fresh, velvety hand, upon my
burning forehead, and it soothed me deliciously. I lay with closed eyes
as she bathed my temples, and passed her fingers through my hair to
loosen its tangles. I was afraid of frightening her away, or finding I
saw but a vision. The water she held to my lips was nectar; when she
smoothed my pillow, all pain passed from the temples that rested upon
it, throbbing with agony before, and I sank into a sweet slumber,--not
unconscious slumber: I knew that I was sleeping; I knew that Madeleine
sat there, filling the place of the sister of charity; I knew that when
I opened my eyes I should see her,--_and I did_, again and again. I
never once spoke to her; I feared some spell would be broken if I
breathed her name. In the morning she disappeared; but I knew she would
come again at midnight, when all was quiet, and the light was carefully
shaded. M. de Bois, my dear Gaston, I tell you _I have seen Madeleine!_"

M. de Bois sat still, looking too much astounded to utter a word.

"I see you cannot believe me," Maurice continued. "She never came while
you were here, and so you think it is a dream. A happy dream! a dream
full of the balm of Gilead! for she has cured me! My brain was a burning
volcano until her hand was lai