"And you will tell her all the things she ought to know?"

"She shall know all I know, which could add to your comfort."

"And you will not leave me, until I am really--well, getting on all
right?"

"I will never leave you, while you need me," said Nurse Rosemary. And
again Garth detected that peculiar quality in her voice. He rose, and
came towards where he heard her to be standing.

"Do you know, you are no end of a brick," he said, with emotion. Then
he held out both hands towards her. "Put your hands in mine just for
once, little Rosemary. I want to try to thank you."

There was a moment of hesitation. Two strong capable hands--strong and
capable, though, just then, they trembled--nearly went home to his; but
were withdrawn just in time. Jane's hour was not yet. This was Nurse
Rosemary's moment of triumph and success. It should not be taken from
her.

"This evening," she said, softly, "after the music, we will--shake
hands. Now be careful, sir. You are stranded. Wait. Here is the
garden-cord, just to your left. Take a little air on the terrace; and
sing again the lovely song I heard under my window this morning. And
now that you know what it is that is 'going to happen,' this exquisite
May-Day evening will fill you with tender expectation. Good-bye,
sir--for an hour."

"What has come to little Rosemary?" mused Garth, as he felt for his
cane, in its corner by the window. "We could not have gone on
indefinitely quite as we have been, since she came in from the
post-office."

He walked on; a troubled look clouding his face: Suddenly it lifted,
and he stood still, and laughed. "Duffer!" he said. "Oh, what a
conceited duffer! She is thinking of her 'young man.' She is going to
him to-morrow; and her mind is full of him; just as mine is full of
Jane. Dear, good, clever, little Rosemary! I hope he is worthy of her.
No; that he cannot be. I hope he knows he is NOT worthy of her. That is
more to the point. I hope he will receive her as she expects. Somehow,
I hate letting her go to him. Oh, hang the fellow!--as Tommy would say."

CHAPTER XXXVI

THE REVELATION OF THE ROSARY

Simpson was crossing the hall just before half-past six o'clock. He had
left his master in the library. He heard a rustle just above him; and,
looking up, saw a tall figure descending the wide oak staircase.

Simpson stood transfixed. The soft black evening-gown, with its
trailing folds, and old lace at the bosom, did not impress