she was crying over you."

With a quick, sudden movement Wilford put his hand to his cheek, where
there was a tear, either his own or that of the "new nurse," who had so
recently bent over him. Retaining the same proud reserve which had
characterized his whole life, he asked no questions, but listened
intently to what his sick companions were saying of the beauty and
tenderness of the young girl, they called her, who had glided for a few
moments into their presence, winning their hearts in that short space of
time, and making them wish she would come back again. Wilford wished so
too, conjuring up all sorts of conjectures about the unknown nurse, and
once going so far as to fancy it was Katy herself. But this idea was
soon dismissed. Katy would hardly venture there as a nurse, and if she
did she would not keep aloof from him. It was not Katy, and if not, who
was it that twice when he was sleeping came and looked at him, his
comrades said, rallying him upon the conquest he had made, and so
exciting his imagination that the fever which at first was hardly
observable began to increase, and the blood throbbed hotly through his
veins, while his brows were knit together with thoughts of the
mysterious stranger. Then with a great shock it occurred to him that
Katy had affirmed:

"Genevra is alive, I have seen her. I recognized the picture at once."

What if it were so, and this nurse was Genevra? The very thought fired
Wilford's brain, and when next his physician came he looked with some
alarm upon the great change for the worse exhibited by his patient. That
surgeon's forte was more in dressing ghastly wounds than in subduing
fever, and as he held Wilford's hand, he said:

"You have a fever, my friend, and it is increasing fast. Perhaps you
would like to see our new physician, Dr. Grant. He is great on fevers."

"Dr. Grant--Dr. Morris Grant?" Wilford exclaimed, starting up in bed
with a fierce energy which surprised the surgeon.

"Yes, Dr. Morris Grant, from Massachusetts," the latter replied, his
surprise increasing when Wilford rejoined:

"Send Satan himself sooner than he. I hate him."

The words dropped hissingly from the firmly set teeth, and Wilford fell
back upon his pillow, exhausted with excitement and anger that Morris
Grant should be there in the same building and offered as his physician.

"Never while my reason lasts," he whispered to himself, with hatred of
Morris growing more intense with every beat of