Feebly astonished, he stretched out his thin, trembling fingers to touch that wonderful bright mesh of waving tresses, and asked-- "What is this?
Who--who is crying ?" The hidden face was uplifted, and two soft eyes, wet with weeping, looked up hopefully.
"It's Mary!" said a trembling voice--"You know me, don't you?
Oh, dearie, if you would but try to rouse yourself, you'd get well even now!" He gazed at her in a kind of childish admiration.
"It's Mary!" he echoed, faintly--"And who is Mary ?" "Don't you remember ?" And rising from her knees, she dashed away her tears and smiled at him--"Or is it too hard for you to think at all about it just now?
Didn't I find you out on the hills in the storm, and bring you home here ?--and didn't I tell you that my name was Mary ?" He kept his eyes upon her wistful face,--and presently a wan smile crossed his lips.
"Yes!--so you did!" he answered--"I know you now, Mary! I've been ill, haven't I ?" She nodded at him--the tears were still wet on her lashes.
"Very ill!" "Ill all night, I suppose ?" She nodded again.
"It's morning now ?" "Yes, it's morning!" "I shall get up presently,"-- he said, in his old gentle courteous way--"I am sorry to have given you so much trouble! I must not burden your hospitality--your kindness----" His voice trailed away into silence,--his eyelids drooped--and fell into a sound slumber,--the first refreshing sleep he had enjoyed for many weary nights and days.
Mary Deane stood looking at him thoughtfully.

The turn had come for the better, and she silently thanked God.

Night after night, day after day, she had nursed him with unwearying patience and devotion, having no other help or guidance save her own womanly instinct, and the occasional advice of the village doctor, who, however, was not a qualified medical man, but merely a herbalist who prepared his own simples.

This humble Gamaliel diagnosed Helmsley's case as one of rheumatic fever, complicated by heart trouble, as well as by the natural weakness of decaying vitality.

Mary had explained to him Helmsley's presence in her cottage by a pious falsehood, which Heaven surely forgave her as soon as it was uttered.