Effie followed him up some low stairs--her feet sank into the rich carpets. The contrast between this luxurious house and the severity of the hospital sickened her. "I shall choke if I live here," she said to herself. But then she crushed all thought of self. The men led her up two or three short flights of stairs. At last he knocked at a door, before which a rich curtain hung. A voice said "Come in," and Effie found herself in Mrs. Harvey's presence. She was seated in a deep armchair; her maid stood before her, holding out different rich brocades and silks which had just been sent round for her to see. "That will do, Carey," she said, when she saw Effie. "You can take all those things away. Tell Madam Miller that I have decided on this blue silk crepon, and this rose-colored silk. I'll call round to be fitted to-morrow morning. Now, Miss Staunton, I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. How do you do? I am so glad to see you." Mrs. Harvey was not so impulsively glad as she had been the last time she saw Effie. The doctor's death--the death he had died for her--seemed removed into the background; her existence was absorbed in pleasure, in gayety and excitement. She had an affectionate, kindly nature, however, and one glance into Effie's sad eyes softened her toward the poor girl. "Well, what can I do for you?" she said. "How are you? Why, you are a nurse--you are in nurse's dress--how capital! What a splendid idea!" "Yes, I am a probationer at St. Joseph's," said Effie. "Oh my dear child, that's splendid for you, of course; but I trust you have brought no infection in your clothes." "No," said Effie, with the faintest of smiles. "I have nothing to do with any of the infectious wards. I am quite safe. I want to speak to you." "I shall be very glad to listen to you, my dear. You know, of course, that the Squire and I take the deepest interest in you and in your family. By the way, how is your dear mother, and how are all those pretty girls and boys getting on?" Effie could not remember that Mrs. Harvey had ever seen her mother--why, therefore, should she speak of her as "dear"? and as to the boys and girls, they were not specially remarkable for their good looks, and if they were, Mrs. Harvey knew nothing about it. She answered these conventional inquiries in a quiet voice. "I hope you'll forgive me," she said, at the first possible pause, "but I am in a very great hurry. I have promised to be back again at St. Joseph's at five o'clock, and it's nearly four now. May I tell you what I really came about?" "Oh, yes, of course, of course!" "Do you remember, before I came to London, the very kind offer you and the Squire made me?"