I saw a small dark face; two big beautiful eyes looked up at me; a weak little peevish mouth trembled; the lips were drawn down; I saw that tears, and perhaps hysterics, were close at hand. I touched the girl's forehead with my hand, it was damp from weakness, but there was no fever. "Before I tell you any of my story I must make you comfortable, Hetty," I said. "Hetty?" she whispered, in a kind of terror. "How _do_ you know anything about me?" "Jack has told me, of course; it's all right, I assure you. He is prevented coming to-night, so I am going to be your nurse. Oh, yes, I will talk to you presently, but not yet, not until you have had some food, and I have made you comfortable." I now observed that the girl's face was ghastly pale. Yes, the fever was gone, but she was in almost the last extremity of weakness. I rushed again to my basket, took out the tin of Brand's jelly, opened it, and gave her a spoonful. It acted as a stimulant at once, and I felt that I might leave her while I ran down-stairs to interview the landlady. Oh, the wonders that a purse full of money can effect! With the chink of that gold I softened Mrs Ashton's obdurate heart. Jack's wife became "Poor dear!" and an object of the deepest interest in her eyes. She bundled up-stairs herself, to re-light the fire in the miserable attic. She supplied me with unlimited warm water, clean towels, and clean sheets, and when I asked her if she could roast a fowl, and send it up hot in about an hour's time, she readily promised to do what I required. In her absence I affected wonders in the attic room. I made it cheerful with fire-light and candle-light. I opened the window and let in some purer air. Having fed my patient, I proceeded to comb out her beautiful curly dark hair. I then washed her face and hands, and made the bed over again with the clean sheets. When the landlady brought up the fowl nicely done to a turn, we were both ready for it. The good food, the care, the cheerful light, the purer atmosphere had already done wonders for Hetty. She lost the nervous, frightened manner which at first had made it almost distressing to speak to her. Her eyes shone; the colour dawned faintly in her white cheeks, and when I fed her with tender bits of chicken, she even smiled up into my face with a world of love and gratitude in her eyes. "You are good to me, miss," she whispered. "You must not call me miss, my name is Rosamund. I am your husband's sister." But this allusion made her blush painfully, and she drew once more into her shell. When Hetty and I had finished our chicken, I set what was left carefully away, and putting out one of the candles sat down by the bedside, and told my new sister that she must go to sleep. "But you, miss?--oh! I beg your pardon,"--she stopped, confusion in her tone.