“It is all right--it is all right,” said Dr. Roland. “Vereker will take half an hour more to make up his mind. But I can tell you at once; the fever’s gone, and, please God, he’ll pull through.” “Is it only you that says so, Dr. Roland?” cried Dora, hard as the nether millstone, and careless, indeed unconscious, what wound she might give. “You little ungrateful thing!” cried Miss Bethune; but a shadow came over her eyes also. And the poor practitioner from the ground floor felt that “only you” knock him down like a stone. He gave a laugh, and made no further reply, but walked over to the window, where he stood between the curtains, looking out upon the summer evening, the children playing on the pavement, all the noises and humours of the street. No, he had not made a name for himself, he had not secured the position of a man who has life and death in his nod. It was hard upon Dr. Roland, who felt that he knew far more about Mr. Mannering than half a hundred great physicians rolled into one, coming in with his solemn step at the open door. “Yes, I think he will do,” said Dr. Vereker. “Miss Mannering, I cannot sufficiently recommend you to leave everything in the hands of these two admirable women. It will be anxious work for some time yet; his strength is reduced to the very lowest ebb, but yet, I hope, all will come right. The same strenuous skilful nursing and constant judicious nourishment and rest. This young lady is very young to have such an anxiety. Is there really no one--no relation, no uncle--nor anything of that kind?” “We have no relations,” said Dora, growing very red. There seemed a sort of guilt in the avowal, she could not tell why. “But fast friends,” said Miss Bethune. “Ah, friends! Friends are very good to comfort and talk to a poor little girl, but they are not responsible. They cannot be applied to for fees; whereas an uncle, though perhaps not so good for the child----” Dr. Vereker turned to Dr. Roland at the window. “I may be prevented from coming to-morrow so soon as I should wish; indeed, the patient should be looked at again to-night if I had time. But it is a long way to come back here. I am sure it will be a comfort to this young lady, Dr. Roland, if you, being on the spot, would kindly watch the case when I am not able to be here.” Dr. Roland cast but one glance at the doubting spectators, who had said, “Only you.” “With all my heart, and thank you for the confidence you put in me,” he said. “Oh, that,” said the great doctor, with a wave of his hand, “is only your due. I have to thank you for one or two hints, and you know as well as I do what care is required now. We may congratulate ourselves that things are as they are; but his life hangs on a thread. Thank you. I may rely upon you then? Good-evening, madam; forgive me for not knowing your name. Good-night, Miss Mannering.”