"He--Mr. Temple," faltered May, "left me for a little time, he supposed, and went to your aunts. He--he did not wish me to leave him; he did not know I never meant to see him again." "And then you went out?" "I went out never to return. I will never return! I will never return, Mr. Webster--I--I--have not strength--" "My poor, poor girl," said Webster, very pityingly. "And now will you leave me, Mr. Webster?" went on May, who was trembling in every limb; "I--I am better now--good-by." "I will not leave you," answered Webster, quietly and firmly. "I will stay with you until I see you in some safe shelter. I do not wonder at your decision not to return to Mr. Temple, and it is natural that just at first you should shrink from seeing those that you have known. But Fate has thrown me in your path, and it is my duty to watch over you. Turn with me now; I have a cab waiting at the other end of the bridge, and we can settle as we drive where you shall go." "Oh! I can not go, I can not go!" moaned May. "You must," said Webster; "do you think I would leave you alone in the miserable, desperate state you are in? I do not ask you to go back to Pembridge Terrace, or to see your father or Mr. Temple; all I ask you to do is to come with me, and I will take the best care of you that I can." "And--and you will tell no one where I am?" "I solemnly promise I will tell no one where you are, if in return you will promise to do nothing rash. Miss Churchill, no man is worth it," he added, half bitterly. "But come, now, let us go back to the cab." But by this time May's trembling limbs had well-nigh failed her. She tottered on for a few minutes more, clinging to Webster's arm for support, and then a deadly faintness suddenly overcame her, and she would have fallen to the ground had not Webster held her in his arms. But when he saw her condition, he at once made up his mind. He called a passing cab; he lifted May in. "Drive as direct as you can to St. Phillip's Hospital," he told the cabman. At the great hospital which I here call St. Phillip's Webster had suddenly remembered that he was a personal friend of the house surgeon, Doctor Brentwood. He remembered also that private patients could find accommodation there, and that there were private rooms where May could be nursed and taken care of. Until she had fainted he had not known where to take her. Now her illness settled the matter, and half an hour later May was borne into the great gloomy building, where the sick and suffering spent their weary hours. But first Webster had a short, whispered conversation with his friend the house surgeon. "Remember, money is no consideration, Brentwood," this conversation ended with; "but she must not be left alone; a nurse must never leave her." Doctor Brentwood nodded his head and went to look after his new patient. Webster had told him as much of May's story as he deemed necessary, and the doctor quite understood.