you will not overdo
it, I think you seem quite strong enough to nurse her. But you must not
sit up at night with her too regularly; you must share the labour with
someone.'

'She will do that with me,' said Mrs. Barton, speaking more kindly,
Alice thought, than she had ever heard her speak before.

Then a wailing voice was heard calling to Alice.

'Go in and see what she wants, dear, but you will not encourage her to
talk much; the doctor does not wish it.'

The room did not look the same to Alice as it had ever looked before.
Her eyes fell on the Persian rugs laid between the two white beds and
the tall glass in the wardrobe where Olive wasted half-an-hour every
evening, examining her beauty. Would she ever do so again? Now a broken
reflection of feverish eyes and blonde hair was what remained. The white
curtains of the chimneypiece had been drawn aside, a bright fire was
burning, and Barnes was removing a foot-pan of hot water.

'Sit down here by me, Alice; I want to talk to you.'

'The doctor has forbidden you to talk, dear; he says you must have
perfect rest and quiet.'

'I must talk a little to you; if I didn't I should go mad.'

'Well, what is it, dear?'

'I will tell you presently,' said the sick girl, glancing at Barnes.

'You can tidy up the room afterwards, Barnes; Miss Olive wants to talk
to me now.'

'Oh, Alice, tell me,' cried the girl, when the servant had left the
room, 'I don't want to ask mamma--she won't tell me the exact truth; but
you will. Tell me what the doctor said. . . . Did he say I was going to
die?'

'Going to die? Olive, who ever heard of such a thing? You really must
not give way to such fancies.'

'Well, tell me what he said.'

'He said that you had received a severe nervous shock, that you had been
subjected to several hours' exposure, that you must take great care of
yourself, and, above all, have perfect rest and quiet, and not excite
yourself, and not talk.'

'Is that all he said? Then he cannot know how ill I feel; perhaps I
ought to see another doctor. But I don't believe anyone could do me much
good. Oh, I feel wretchedly ill, and somehow I seem to know I am going
to die! It would be very horrible to die; but young girls no older than
I have died--have been cut off in the beginning of their life. And we
have seen nothing of life, only a few balls and parties. It would be
terrible to die so soon. When Violet carried off the Marquis I felt so
bitterly ashamed that