it, I was five feet six
inches high, my face looked every day of forty that minute,--told me I
was too tired to plan, and he would attend to it all, adding, at the
close of his dear good talk:

"His artist soul has nearly used up his physical strength. I feel there
has been great pressure on the nerves. If so there must be, according to
the course of nature, rapid changes up to a certain point, and then
there will be a thorough change slowly wrought out. Do not doubt my
skill, 'little girl,' he will come out all right; you and I have a sure
hold on his heart-strings."

I could hardly wait to ask the question, "What do you mean by his artist
soul? what is he doing? and the doctor's eyes were looking in wonder at
me, and his lips parting with a word, when Hal's voice startled us with:

"Emily, who is this?" and we turned to see him looking at Louis, whose
hand was on his head.

I answered, "The dear friend Hal who brought me here."

"What a beautiful hand he has. Oh! how it rests my tired, tired brain,"
he said. "Water, Emily, sister, a little water."

Dr. Selden gave him a glass, saying, "Drink all you like."

"I am faint," said Hal.

"Take this, my good fellow," and the doctor held a glass of cordial to
his lips.

He was perfectly lucid now, and his voice natural. Dr. Selden,
anticipating questions from him, answered them all; told him I had come
to stay until he could go back to the old home with me, and of Mr.
Hanson's kind tender of hospitality to both Louis and myself, and
settled every vexing question for the patient, who looked a world of
thanks, and with "God be praised" on his lips passed again into
unconsciousness, with Louis' hand still passing over his head. I thought
then if Louis should ask me to jump into the crater of Vesuvius for him
I could do it out of sheer thankfulness; and I marvelled at him, the
child of wealth and ease, only a boy in years, here in this miserable
room a strong comforting man, seeming as perfectly at home as if always
here. Then the thought of the artist came back to me and I leaned
forward to ask Dr. Selden what it all meant.

"Why, little girl, your brother is a sculptor born. He has sat up nights
working hard to accomplish his work, and has succeeded too well in his
art, for unconsciously he has worn his nervous power threadbare. You
will see one of his little pieces in Mr. Hanson's library when you go
down there. He has a friend here who--Ah!" said the doctor, turni