matter, I suppose I must go to the old school
again. Another note this morning. Isn't it
good? Here we are."

They went in, up-stairs into the drawing-room.
A gentleman in black was waiting there, a tall
and sorrowful-looking gentleman. Romaine
nodded to him. "How d'ye do, Hanbury?" he
said, and left the room.

Mrs. Fermor drooped her head a little guiltily.
Hanbury looked at her sadly, and for a moment
or two silently. "So you are Fermor's wife!"
he said. She often thought afterwards of the
sad, hopeless, and wistful look, with which he
said these words. It was a little epitome of a
whole history, that began with her own coming
to Eastport.

Romaine came back in a few minutes. "I
have seen Manuel," he said. " He has a good deal
of the mule in him, but I have made him do what
I like, as I do with most people," and he looked
at her for a moment significantly. " Now," he
continued, " you may come when you please, and
stay as long as you please."

Mrs. Fermor's face glowed with a sense of
grateful obligation for this service. This power
of " doing," and compassing what seems difficult,
is what excites the true reverence of women.
The " almighty" man is their hero.

There was a soft and vital enthusiasm about her,
even in little things, which was very interesting to
others. She was full of quick, eager affections,
and a kind of romance, and threw herself into
the new duty she had chosen with an ardour and
earnestness that was surprising. The brother
received her gloomily, and with distrust. He
was, indeed, something of a mule.

CHAPTER XVII. A NIGHT SCENE.

MISS MANUEL was tossing in the gripe of a sort
of fever. " Over-excitement," said the doctor,
a calm wooden man, who, with a steady attachment
for the house, came twice in the day, and
twice in the day let himself out of the one-horse
wardrobe at the door. He was not a gloomy
man, and used to stand for several minutes by
Pauline's bedside, studying her flushed face and
her eyes—brighter than ever they were before—
with unrestrained approbation.

"Nothing could be better," he would say to
Mrs. Fermor, watching him wistfully, and whose
heart would leap at this joyful news; " nothing
could be better. We shall have the worst
symptoms by to-morrow. Pulse not yet high
enough, blood abnormal, and a little wandering
of the brain. I should say by to-morrow at the
furthest. I should like an oppression of the
chest, a difficulty of breathing; but," he added,
with a sigh, as if illustrating the unreasonableness
of our nature, " we can't expect everything.
Still, nothing could be better."

And Mrs. Fermor, wondering, and mystified,
and overwhelmed with deepest grief at this awful
language, could only go through the usual farewell
medical offices with anything but the
delicacy which custom exacts. She often missed
her road to the doctor's secret palm, and the
piece of gold described many noisy circles on
the ground before it reached its home.

Pauline was really in danger for a few days.
The doctor was right, though he put it in an odd
way, when he wished for the crisis and the more
dangerous symptoms to pass by. The excitement
in which she had been living, the strain upon
her life for so long, had begun to break her
down, and she was now tossing and working in
the hot fiery waters of fever.

Mrs. Fermor was a perfect Sister of Charity.
She sat by her all day, and was really useful.
But she longed to be able to show yet greater
devotion. She would like to sit up with her all
night long, a duty taken by a professional lady
with a false curl at each side, like the volute of
an Ionic capital. But the brother came pitilessly
and roughly in the evening, and turned her
away.

She spoke to Mr. Romaine. " I would give
the world," she said, "if you could kindly
manage it."

"What can I do?" he said. " I am only a
rude rough being, without power of any sort.
However, we will try." That evening he came
with good news. " I have seen the mule," he
said. " We had rather a struggle, but I managed
him."

Again Mrs. Fermor was suffused with gratitude.
She had the greatest confidence and a
sort of trusting admiration for this all-powerful
man. She was going home in a flurry of delight.
It was raining, and he said carelessly, " How
am I to get home?"

Still grateful, Mrs. Fermor said proudly,
"You must come with me. I shall leave you at home."

He was a true friend, and she was almost a
little proud to show to the world that in the
instance of so true a friend, she could be above
its vile conventionalities.

They had come out, and Mr. Romaine, after
helping Mrs. Fermor in, had his own foot on the
cab-step, when Fermor, with a sour angry face,
came up. Romaine welcomed him with a cordial
smile.

"Just putting Mrs. Fermor into a cab to send
her home to you. You are just in time."

Suspiciously, and with a sort of sneer, Fermor
answered,

"It seems so!"

"Ay, so it does!" said Romaine. " Why
don't you offer me a seat, Mrs. Fermor?" He
added, fixing his eye upon her, " Why, now?
Come?"

He seemed to put this question purposely for
some test of his own. Mrs. Fermor coloured a
shade, hesitated, and then said with a little
forced manner:

"Well, we shall ask you. You must not think
of walking. Where shall we set you down?"

The test, whatever it was, was successful;
for Mr. Romaine smiled triumphantly. He took
off his hat.