bing indrawn breath; James struggled for a
moment; then opened his eyes and saw his mother's face.

Mistress Margaret had finished with the water; and was now swiftly
manipulating a long strip of white linen. Isabel still sunk on her knees
watched the bandage winding in and out round his wrist, and between his
thumb and forefinger.

Then he turned his head sharply towards her with a gasp as if in pain;
and his eyes fell on Isabel.

"Mistress Isabel," he said; and his voice was broken and untuneful.

Mistress Margaret turned; and smiled at her; and at the sight the
intolerable compression on the girl's heart relaxed.

"Come, child," she said, "come and help me with his hand. No, no, lie
still," she added; for James was making a movement as if to rise.

James smiled at her as she came forward; and she saw that his face had a
strange look as if after a long illness.

"You see, Mistress Isabel," he said, in the same cracked voice, and with
an infinitely pathetic courtesy, "I may not rise."

Isabel's eyes filled with sudden tears, his attempt at his old manner was
more touching than all else; and she came and knelt beside the old nun.

"Hold the fingers," she said; and the familiar old voice brought the girl
a stage nearer her normal consciousness again.

Isabel took the priest's fingers and saw that they were limp and swollen.
The sleeve fell back a little as Mistress Margaret manipulated the
bandage; and the girl saw that the forearm looked shapeless and
discoloured.

She glanced up in swift terror at his face, but he was looking at his
mother, whose eyes were bent on his; Isabel looked quickly down again.

"There," said Mistress Margaret, tying the last knot, "it is done."

Mr. James looked his thanks over his shoulder at her, as she nodded and
smiled before turning to leave the room.

Isabel sat slowly down and watched them.

"This is but a flying visit, Mistress Isabel," said James. "I must leave
to-morrow again."

He had sat up now, and settled himself in his seat, though his mother's
arm was still round him. The voice and the pitiful attempt were terrible
to Isabel. Slowly the consciousness was filtering into her mind of what
all this implied; what it must have been that had turned this tall
self-contained man into this weak creature who lay in his mother's arms,
and fainted at a touch and sobbed. She could say nothing; but could only
look, and breathe, and look.

Then it suddenly came to her mind