fire. I sat down as far from that
couch as the size of the room would allow. She looked pale and really
ill, but raised her blue eyes when she said good-morning; and then--the
hot flushes began to come. She looked red, too, and I thought she had
a settled fever. I wanted to say something, but didn't know what. Some
things seemed too warm, others too cold. At last I thought,--"Why,
_anybody_ can say to anybody, 'How do you do?'" So I said,--

"Miss Wood, how do you do, this morning?"

She looked up, surprised; for I tried hard to stiffen my words, and had
succeeded admirably.

"Not very unwell, I thank you, Sir," she replied; but I knew she was
worse than the night before. My situation grew unbearable, and I rose to
go.

"Mr. Allen, what do you think about Jane?" said Ellen. "You know about
sickness, don't you? Come, feel her pulse, and see if she will have a
fever." And she drew me towards the lounge.

My heart was in my throat, and my face was on fire. Jane flushed up, and
I thought she was offended at my presumption. What could I do? Ellen
held out to me the little soft hand; but I dared not touch it, unless I
asked her first.

"Miss Wood," I asked, "shall I mind Ellen?"

"Of course you will," exclaimed Ellen. "Tell him yes, Jane."

Then Jane smiled and said,--

"Yes, if he is willing."

And I took her wrist in my thumb and finger. The pulse was quick and the
skin dry and hot. I think I would have given a year's existence to clasp
that hand between my own, and to stroke down her hair. I hardly knew how
I didn't do it; and the fear that I should made me drop her arm in
a hurry, as if it had burned my fingers. Ellen stared. I bade them
good-morning abruptly, and left the room and the house. "This, then," I
thought, as I strode along towards the village, "is the beginning of the
ending!"

That evening, I felt in duty bound to go, as a neighbor, to inquire for
the sick. I went, but found no one below. When Ellen came down, she said
that Jane was quite ill. I remained in the keeping-room all the evening,
mostly alone, asked if I could do anything for them, and obtained some
commissions for the next day at the village.

Jane's illness, though long, was not dangerous,--at least, not to her.
To me it was most perilous, particularly the convalescence; for then I
could be of so much use to her! The days were long and spring-like. Wild
flowers appeared. She liked them, and I managed that she should never be
witho