t not talk, indeed you mustn't," she said, facing round again.
"I am sure the doctor must have told you to keep perfectly quiet. If you
are quiet and good, I will come to you very often, but if not I shall
hand you over to the charge of another nurse. I blame myself for asking
you any questions. Indeed I am quite in earnest; you are not fit to
talk; the slightest movement might possibly set your wound off bleeding;
besides you are not strong enough; it is an effort to you, and the great
thing is for you to be perfectly quiet and tranquil. Now shut your eyes
and try to doze off again."

She spoke in a tone of nursely authority, and with a faint smile he
obeyed her orders. She stood for a minute looking at him, and as she did
so her eyes filled with tears at the change that a few days had made,
and yet her experience taught her that it would be far greater before
long. As yet weakness and fever, and pain, had scarcely begun their work
of hollowing the cheeks and reducing him to a shadow of himself. There
was already scarcely a tinge of color in his face, while there was a
drawn look round the mouth and a bluish tinge on the lips. The eyes
seemed deeper in the head and the expression of the face greatly
changed--indeed, it was rather the lack of any expression that
characterized it. It might have been a waxen mask.

From time to time she went back to him, and although the soft clinging
material of her dress and her list slippers rendered her movements
noiseless, he always seemed conscious of her presence, and opened his
eyes with a little welcoming smile, as she stood beside him, sipped a
few drops from the glass she held to his lips, and then closed his eyes
again without a word. After a few hours the period of pain and fever set
in, but the doctor found no reason for anxiety.

"You must expect it, my dear," he said to Mary one day when the fever
was at its height. "A man cannot get through such a wound as his without
a sharp struggle. Nature cannot be outraged with impunity. It is
certain now that there was no vital injury, but pain and fever almost
necessarily accompany the efforts of nature to repair damages. I see no
reason for uneasiness at present. I should say that he has an excellent
constitution, and has never played the fool with it. In a few days in
all probability the fever will abate, and as soon as it does so, he will
be on the highway to convalescence."

During that ten days Mary seldom left the hospital