"This is so good of you," he said; " so kind,
so thoughtful. Is it profane or disrespectful to
say that you have been my guardian angel ?
When I see you there before me, or rather when
I think of your advice (is it not absurd almost, I
that have rubbed through the world, the wise
and experienced man, wanting advice!), I feel so
strong. But of course I cannot hope for more?
Still, for what is past, accept my most grateful
thanks, Mrs. Fermor."

She, thinking herself a perfect little
monument of wisdom, shook her finger at him.
" It all depends," she said, " on how you
behave."

Driving away at first, she was in a sort of
elation; then fell into some little misgivings and
troubles. Why had not Miss Manuel and the
other lady come too? She thought of her then
as of a dear friend, and indeed her heart had
lately been turning to Pauline with almost a sort
of affection and yearning. She was so splendid
and brilliant, she admired her, and she was so
kind and encouraging. She thought she would
go and see her, and tell her her little troubles;
then bade the coachman drive away to Alfred-
place.

At the door of the house was standing a sober
practical brougham; and a sober practical figure
was letting himself out slowly, and shutting the
door behind him leisurely, as though it were the
leaf of a wardrobe. He went up the steps
sharply, and rang the bell sharply, as who should
say, "An hour contains sixty guineas, not sixty
minutes."

Mrs. Fermor knew him to be a doctor. They
told her at the door that Miss Manuel had been
taken ill that morning, and was in a raging
fever.

She had been so full of little schemes for
confidence, for consultation, for kind sympathy
towards this friend, whom she had determined
to make a cherished intimate of, and love, and
honour, that the news came on her like a blow.
It roused up all the enthusiasm of her young
heart. " I will go in," she said. " I will go up
to her. O, this is dreadful! Where is the
room?"

Half way up the stairs, she met a dark figure
with black beard and gleaming eyes, who barred
her passage. " I am sorry," he said, " we cannot
see you. My sister is seriously ill. Another
time."

"But," said she, almost piteously, " I am her
friend. I want to see her. I am Mrs. Fermor,
tell her."

He started forward; his eyes flashed. " You
Mrs. Fermor!" he said. " Not a step, please!
I must request you will go. She is ill now, and
half unconscious: so I am master now. A
pleasant surprise for her, indeed! You must go
away, and go home, and I must beg you won't
come here again."

Really frightened and overpowered, Mrs.
Fermor hurried down stairs. The gleaming eyes,
and a sort of restrained ferocity in his manner,
scared her. She went home full of grief and
confusion. " She has no one to help her," she
thought. " Only a woman like me could be her
nurse. Noble, generous nature!" And Mrs.
Fermor, full of enthusiasm and excitement,
longed to be a sort of hospital nurse.

On the next evening, Mr. Romaine came stalking
into the room. This visit she did not relish;
at least, its boldness alarmed her. She tried
to assume a little cold manner, but he was
so earnest and eager that she put it aside at
once.

"You have heard," he said, " about our
friend Miss Manuel. It is dreadful, poor, poor
girl."

"But is she better?" said Mrs. Fermor,
wistfully.

"She is in danger," said he, "serious danger.
She has worked herself into this fit, and of course
all her fine friends will fly the house like a
plague."

Mrs. Fermor clasped her hands fervently.
" Indeed, I tried yesterday," she said, " to get
to her. I feel for her. I hardly slept last night
thinking of her. But there was a terrible man
there, who turned me away."

"I know," said he; " that was her brother."

"I would give the world," she went on, " to
get to see her, to watch over her, to sit up with
her at nights, and be like a Sister of Charity to
her."

"You would?" he said, with great interest.
" Are you serious? There is a good deal of the
theatre and poetry about 'watching' and vigils,
&c., which is leading you astray."

A little wounded, Mrs. Fermor looked at him
sadly, without speaking.

"No, no," he said, " I am only joking. That
rough speech was not meant for you. I believe
in you—a little. But if you are in earnest, come
with me now!"

"Come with you," she said, wondering.

"Yes," he said, smiling, " I am a sort of
gnome, or genii. I can unlock doors and get
into houses by mysterious agency. Will you
come? But no! prudery has its claims, even on
an occasion like this. She is the Moloch of our
day."

Mrs. Fermor's eyes sparkled. She seemed to
feel a holy sort of call. The devotion of the
Sister of Charity was before her eyes. " I will
go," she said, " and I will trust you."

He got a cab, and she set off with Mr. Romaine.
She was actually proud of her superiority to the
conventional laws.

"I admire you," said Romaine, looking at her
steadily, " for the way you have done this. I do
indeed. No fuss, no confusion, but practical
action. I begin to believe there is some good in
the world after all."

She laughed. "You will learn in time," she
said.

"Ay," he answered, gloomily, "but who will
teach. You are tired of the scholar already. I
saw that in your face when I came in. No