d it. And the fire from which it sprang does not burn in humbler
souls. So she stood gazing, those lips which once had been the seat of
pride now parted in a smile of infinite tenderness. But her head she
still held high, and her body straight. Down the front of her dress
fell a tucked apron of the whitest linen, and in her hand was a cup of
steaming broth.

"You are to take this, Richard," she commanded. And added, with a touch
of her old mischief, "Mind, sir, if I hear a sound out of you, I am to
disappear like the fairy godmother."

I knew full well she meant it, and the terror of losing her kept me
silent. She put down the cup, placed another pillow behind my head with
a marvellous deftness, and then began feeding me in dainty spoonfuls
something which was surely nectar. And mine eyes, too, had their feast.
Never before had I seen my lady in this gentle guise, this task of
nursing the sick, which her doing raised to a queenly art.

Her face had changed some. Years of trial unknown to me had left an
ennobling mark upon her features, increasing their power an hundred
fold. And the levity of girlish years was gone. How I burned to question
her! But her lips were now tight closed, her glance now and anon seeking
mine, and then falling with an exquisite droop to the coverlet. For the
old archness, at least, would never be eradicated. Presently, after she
had taken the cup and smoothed my pillow, I reached out for her hand. It
was a boldness of which I had not believed myself capable; but she did
not resist, and even, as I thought, pressed my fingers with her own
slender ones, the red of our Maryland holly blushing in her cheeks. And
what need of words, indeed! Our thoughts, too, flew coursing hand in
hand through primrose paths, and the angels themselves were not to be
envied.

A master might picture my happiness, waking and sleeping, through the
short winter days that came and went like flashes of gray light. The
memory of them is that of a figure tall and lithe, a little more rounded
than of yore, and a chiselled face softened by a power that is one
of the world's mysteries. Dorothy had looked the lady in rags, and
housewife's cap and apron became her as well as silks or brocades.
When for any reason she was absent from my side, I moped, to the quiet
amusement of Mrs. Manners and the more boisterous delight of Aunt Lucy,
who took her turn sewing in the window. I was near to forgetting the use
of words, until at len