What a shadow he was of his former self--so pale, so thin, so wasted! The hand lying on the counterpane was almost transparent, and the forehead, streaked with damp brown hair, was like marble.
"Poor fellow!" Kate thought, pushing these stray locks softly back, and forgetting how dangerously akin pity is to love--"poor fellow!" Yes, it has come to this.

Sick--dying, perhaps--Kate Danton found how dear this once obnoxious young Doctor had grown to her heart.

"How blessings brighten as they take their flight!" Now that she was on the verge of losing him forever, she discovered his value--discovered that her admiration was very like love.

How could she help it?
Women admire heroes so much! And was not this brave young Doctor a real hero?
From first to last, had not his life in St.Croix been one list of good and generous deeds?
The very first time she had ever seen him, he had been her champion, to save her from the insults and rudeness of two drunken soldiers.

He had been a sort of guardian angel to poor Agnes in her great trouble.