though her longing eyes would devour
every lineament of his features. Again and again she pressed her lips
to his, as though she would thus force upon him life and health and
strength. But the sick man lay unconscious in her arms, all unheeding
that full tide of passionate love which was surging and swelling
within her bosom.

At last footsteps aroused her. A woman entered. She walked to the
bedside and looked with tender sympathy at Hilda. She had heard from
Gretchen that this was Lady Chetwynde, who had come to nurse her husband.

"Are you the nurse?" asked Hilda, who divined at one glance the
character of the newcomer.

"Yes, my lady."

"Well, I am to be the nurse after this, but I should like you to
remain. You can wait in one of the ante-rooms."

"Forgive me, my lady, if I say that you yourself are in need of a
nurse. You will not be able to endure this fatigue. You look overworn
now. Will you not take some rest?"

"No," said Hilda, sharply and decisively.

"My lady," said the nurse, "I will watch while you are resting."

"I shall not leave the room."

"Then, my lady, I will spread a mattress on the sofa, and you may lie
down."

"No, I am best here by his side. Here I can get the only rest and the
only strength that I want. I must be near enough to touch his hand
and to see his face. Here I will stay."

"But, my lady, you will break down utterly."

"No, I shall not break down. I shall be strong enough to watch him
until he is either better or worse. If he gets better, he will bring
me back to health; if he gets worse, I will accompany him to the
tomb."

Hilda spoke desperately. Her old self-control, her reticence, and
calm had departed. The nurse looked at her with a face full of
sympathy, and said not a word. The sight of this young and beautiful
wife, herself so weak, so wan, and yet so devoted, so young and
beautiful, yet so wasted and emaciated, whose only desire was to live
or die by the side of her husband, roused all the feelings of her
heart. To some Hilda's conduct would have been unintelligible; but
this honest Swiss nurse was kind-hearted and sentimental, and the
fervid devotion and utter self-abnegation of Hilda brought tears to
her eyes.

"Ah, my lady," said she, "I see I shall soon have two to nurse."

"Well, if you have, it will not be for long," said Hilda.

The nurse sighed and was silent.

"May I remain, my lady, or shall I go?" she asked.

"You may go just now. See how m