ering what had had become of you. You
looked so pale, yesterday, that I was afraid you might be ill."

"I have been sleeping like a top," she said, "for I should be ashamed to
say how many hours. Of course I ought to have been here at eight, but
they did not wake me, and I feel all the better for it."

"I remember not so long ago," he said, "that a certain young lady
declared that it was ridiculous for persons to interfere in business
which did not concern them. Now here you are knocking yourself up and
going through horrible work for people who are nothing to you. That is a
little inconsistent."

"I do not argue with people who cannot speak above a whisper," she said.
"Another time I shall be able to prove to you that there is nothing
inconsistent whatever in it. Well, thank God that you are better,
Cuthbert. I should not have gone away yesterday afternoon if Dr.
Swinburne had not assured me that there was nothing that I could do for
you, and that he really thought you might recover. You believe me, don't
you?"

He nodded.

"I do believe you, Mary. I did not think myself that I had a shadow of a
chance, but this morning I began to fancy that the doctor may be right,
and that I may possibly live to be a shining light among artists."

"Did you sleep at all?" she asked.

"Yes, I have been dozing on and off ever since you went away. I have
drunk a good deal of brandy and water and I really think I could take
some broth. I told the doctor so this morning, but he said I had better
wait another twelve hours, and then I might have two or three spoonsful
of arrowroot, but the less the better. I suppose there is no list of
killed and wounded published yet. I should like to know who had gone.
They were good fellows, every one of them."

"I don't know, Cuthbert, but I should hardly think so. I think Madame
Michaud would have told me had there been a list published this
morning."

Mary now turned to the next bed, but the patient was lying with his eyes
closed.

"I expect he has gone off to sleep," Cuthbert said, "he has been in a
lot of pain all night and half an hour ago they took off his bandages
and put on fresh ones, and I fancy they must have hurt him amazingly. I
could tell that by his quick breathing, for he did not utter a moan. I
am glad that he has gone off to sleep. I heard the doctor tell him that
he thought he might get the use of his arm again, though it would
probably be stiff for some time."

"You mus