netrating quality, which by intention
conveyed both affection and the rights of ownership:

"You are not tiring yourself?" and turning to Danvers, he added, "You
must help Lord Stair and myself to take care of her, Mr. Carmichael.
She has not been well of late."

I can set the words out, but the solicitation, such as a lover, nay, a
husband might have shown, are impossible to convey with any nicety; and
at his coming, Nancy, who had had one experience of the clash of
tempers between these two men, temporized the affair by saying:

"My father and his grace are surely right. I have not been well of
late, and find it indeed time for me to say 'Good night.'"

* * * * *

Toward morning I was awakened by the noise of a loosened blind, and
slipping into a dressing-gown went through the passage to fasten the
latch. Passing Nancy's room I heard a moan, and, startled out of
myself, listened to hear another, and still another, as though a heart
were breaking. There was a light in the room, and through a small
window in the door, the curtain of which was drawn a bit aside, I saw
the little one whom I would gladly die to save from any pain, lying
face down upon the floor, her arms stretched out, the hands clutched
tightly together, and her whole body shaking as in mortal illness.

"Nancy, Nancy, let me in! Open the door to me," I cried.

She started to a sitting position, tried to arrange her disordered hair
and gown, and I saw her cast a look in the mirror as she came toward
the door, to see how far she could make me believe that nothing unusual
was the matter with her.

"What is it?" I asked, my heart bursting with love and sympathy as I
drew her to my breast.

She turned her eyes toward me, eyes which held the despair in them
which only women know.

"Oh," she cried, clutching me to keep from falling, "didn't you see?"

"I saw nothing," I answered.

"I can't speak it," she says; "but another of life's lessons has come
to me to-night. Do you remember the time I told you that I had learned
something with my head? I learned it with my heart to-night, and it's
like to kill me. Oh, what have I done?" she cried, "what have I ever
done to deserve such punishment as this?"

"Tell me, Nancy," I said. "There is nothing in God's world that can't
be helped by sympathy."

"I can't tell you. I can't put words to it. See!" she said, standing a
bit apart from me. "Look at me! Do you know a