nurse at the moment came into the
room, he withdrew.

But he did not forget the wan face of that suffering child. It followed
him into the sunny street and into the quiet library. Alone and in
company, all day long, he was haunted by the wistful eyes of that
patient girl as no sorrowful sight had ever haunted him before.

Mr Sherwood was not what could be called a benevolent man, a lover of
his kind. He enjoyed doing a kind act when it came in his way--as who
does not? But that he should go out of his way to do kind things for
people in whom he had no special interest, only that they were in
trouble and needed help, he had not thought his duty. He had had
troubles of his own to bear, but they had not been of a kind that other
people could help much. At any rate, people had not helped him; he had
not sought help. Possibly he would have resented the idea of any one's
bearing his burdens for him, and no doubt he thought that in this sad,
disappointing world, each one must bear his own. He had called at the
hospital because Miss Gertrude had asked him to call, and hoping that he
should find the little nurse already safe at home with her friends; but
however this might be, he had no thought of anything but pleasing his
little cousin in the matter.

Yet he had borne great and sore troubles in his lifetime--sickness and
sorrow and disappointment. He carried the marks of those troubles
still, perhaps because he had never learned that the way to heal one's
own sorrows is to do what may be done for the healing of the sorrows of
others. Certainly no such thought had ever come into his mind, and he
was quite surprised to find that the pale face and wistful eyes of
Christie still followed him. He did not try to banish the thought of
her as he sometimes tried to banish painful thoughts. He felt deeply
for her. There were few days after that in which Christie did not have
some token of his remembrance. Sometimes it was a bunch of flowers or a
little fruit, sometimes a book or a message from Gertrude. Sometimes he
sent, sometimes he went himself, for the sake of seeing the little pale
face brighten at his entrance.

After a little time he found her no longer in her solitary room, but in
one of the wards. It was not very large or very full. Many of the
white beds, that stood in rows against the walls, were unoccupied; and
most of the patients seemed not very ill, or on a fair way to recover.
But it seemed to Mr She