delicate, refined face,
white as the linen, with beautiful lips almost as white; and a mass of
light, shining, silky hair tossed about the pillow; and large dark-gray
eyes gazing at me beseechingly, with an expression that made my heart
leap as it had never leaped before.

That was what I saw, and could not forbear seeing. I tried to recall my
theory, and to close my eyes to the pathetic beauty of the face before
me; but it was altogether in vain. If I had seen her before, or if I had
been prepared to see any one like her, I might have succeeded; but I was
completely thrown off my guard. There the charming face lay: the eyes
gleaming, the white forehead tinted, and the delicate mouth contracting
with pain: the bright, silky curls tossed about in confusion. I see it
now just as I saw it then.

CHAPTER THE THIRD.

WITHOUT RESOURCES.

I suppose I did not stand still more than five seconds, yet during that
pause a host of questions had flashed through my brain. Who was this
beautiful creature? Where had she come from? How did it happen that she
was in Tardif's house? and so on. But I recalled myself sharply to my
senses; I was here as her physician, and common-sense and duty demanded
of me to keep my head clear. I advanced to her side, and took the small,
blue-veined hand in mine, and felt her pulse with my fingers. It beat
under them a low but fast measure; too fast by a great deal. I could see
that the general condition of her health was perfect, a great charm in
itself to me; but she had been bearing acute pain for over twenty-eight
hours, and she was becoming exhausted. A shudder ran through me at the
thought of that long spell of suffering.

"You are in very great pain, I fear," I said, lowering my voice.

"Yes," her white lips answered, and she tried to smile a patient though
a dreary smile, as she looked up into my face, "my arm is broken. Are
you a doctor?"

"I am Dr. Martin Dobree," I said, passing my hand softly down her arm.
The fracture was above the elbow, and was of a kind to make the setting
of it give her considerable pain. I could see she was scarce fit to bear
any further suffering just then; but what was to be done? She was not
likely to get much rest till the bone was set.

"Have you had much sleep since your fall?" I asked, looking at the
weariness visible in her eyes.

"Not any," she replied; "not one moment's sleep."

"Did you have no sleep all night?" I inquired again.

"No." sh