to introduce myself to her. But, in the mean
time, what is to be done in this difficulty
about the nurse? Who is with Mrs. Frankland
now?"

"Her maid; but she is a very young
woman, and doesn't understand nursing-duties.
The landlady of the inn is ready to
help when she can; but then she has
constant demands on her time and attention. I
suppose we shall have to telegraph to London,
and get somebody sent here by railway."

"And that will take time, of course? And
the new nurse may turn out to be a drunkard,
or a thief, or both,— when you have got
her here," said the outspoken Mrs. Norbury.
"Dear, dear me! can't we do something
better than that? I am ready, I am sure,
to take any trouble, or make any sacrifice, if
I can be of use to Mrs. Frankland. Do you
know, Mr. Orridge, I think it would be a good
plan if we consulted my housekeeper— Mrs.
Jazeph. She is an odd woman, with an odd
name, you will say. But she has lived with
me in this house more than five years, and
she may know of somebody in our neighbourhood
who might suit you, though I don't."
With those words, Mrs. Norbury rang the
bell, and ordered the servant who answered
it, to tell Mrs. Jazeph that she was wanted
up-stairs immediately.

After the lapse of a minute or so, a soft
knock was heard at the door, and the housekeeper
entered the room.

Mr. Orridge looked at her, the moment she
appeared, with an interest and curiosity for
which he was hardly able to account. He
judged her, at a rough guess, to be a woman
of about fifty years of age. At the first glance,
his medical eye detected that some of the
intricate machinery of the nervous system
had gone wrong with Mrs. Jazeph. He
noted the painful working of the muscles of
her face, and the hectic flush that flew into
her cheeks when she entered the room and
found a visitor there. He observed a strangely
scared look in her eyes, and remarked that it
did not leave them when the rest of her face
became gradually composed. "That woman
has had some dreadful fright, some great grief,
or some wasting complaint," he thought to
himself. "I wonder which it is?"

"This is Mr. Orridge, the medical gentleman
who has lately settled at West Winston,"
said Mrs. Norbury, addressing the
housekeeper. "He is in attendance on a
lady, who was obliged to stop, on her journey
westward, at our station, and who is now
staying at the Tiger's Head. You have
heard something about it, have you not, Mrs.
Jazeph?"

Mrs. Jazeph, standing just inside the door,
looked respectfully towards the doctor, and
answered in the affirmative. Although she
only said the two common words, "Yes,
ma'am," in a quiet, uninterested way, Mr.
Orridge was struck by the sweetness and
tenderness of her voice. If he had not been
looking at her, he would have supposed it to
be the voice of a young woman. His eyes
remained fixed on her after she had spoken,
though he felt that they ought to have been
looking towards her mistress. He, the most
unobservant of men in such things, found
himself noticing her dress, so that he
remembered, long afterwards, the form of the
spotless muslin cap, that primly covered her
smooth grey hair, and the quiet brown
colour of the silk dress that fitted so neatly
and hung around her in such spare and
disciplined folds. The little confusion which she
evidently felt at finding herself the object of
the doctor's attention, did not betray her into
the slightest awkwardness of gesture or
manner. If there can be such a thing,
physically-speaking, as the grace of restraint,
that was the grace which seemed to govern
Mrs. Jazeph's slightest movements; which led
her feet smoothly over the carpet, as she
advanced when her mistress next spoke to her;
which governed the action of her wan right-hand
as it rested lightly on a table by her
side, while she stopped to hear the next question
that was addressed to her.

"Well," continued Mrs. Norbury, "this poor
lady was just getting on comfortably, when
the nurse, who was looking after her, fell ill
this morning; and there she is now, in a
strange place, with a first child, and no
proper attendance— no woman of age and
experience to help her as she ought to be helped.
We want somebody fit to wait on a delicate
woman who has seen nothing of the rough
side of humanity. Mr. Orridge can find nobody
at a day's notice, and I can tell him of
nobody. Can you help us, Mrs. Jazeph?
Are there any women down in the village, or
among Mr. Norbury's tenants, who understand
nursing, and have some tact and tenderness
to recommend them into the bargain?"

Mrs. Jazeph reflected for a little while, and
then said, very respectfully, but very briefly
also, and still without any appearance of
interest in her manner, that she knew of no
one whom she could recommend.

"Don't make too sure of that, till you have
thought a little longer," said Mrs. Norbury.
"I have a particular interest in serving
this lady, for Mr. Orridge told me just before
you came in, that she is the daughter of Captain
Treverton, whose shipwreck———"

The instant those words were spoken, Mrs.
Jazeph turned round with a start, and looked
at the doctor. Apparently forgetting that her
right hand was on the table, she moved it so
suddenly that it struck against a bronze statuette
of a dog placed on some writing materials.
The statuette fell to the ground, and Mrs.
Jazeph stooped to pick it up with a cry of
alarm which seemed strangely exaggerated
by comparison with the trifling nature of the
accident.

"Bless the woman! what is she frightened
about?" exclaimed Mrs. Norbury. "The dog