She did not see the sick man’s eyes open, fall upon her, and remain fixed, at first vacantly, then intently, upon her bent head. She did not even notice the slight sound he made as he struggled to raise himself on his elbow, nor the faint gasp of astonishment he gave when, having succeeded, he had satisfied himself that it was his long-forgotten wife. “Annie!” he exclaimed, in a voice hoarse with weakness and with no warmer emotion than amazement. She looked up and said “Harry!” with just the same amount of tenderness. “Why are you here?” he asked curiously, as he fell weakly back upon his pillow. “Why, to nurse you, of course!” said she in a soft voice, rising at once without any noise or bustle, but in a quietly matter-of-fact manner. She came to the bed, arranged his pillow more comfortably, raised his head, and gave him something to drink, while he stared at her silently and received her attentions without any remark, until she quietly went back again to her arm-chair and “Consuelo.” Still he gazed at her fixedly, and, as she opened the book at the right place, which she had been careful not to lose on hearing her husband address her for the first time after nearly four years’ separation, he said: “You’ve gone off shockingly!” “Yes, I know I have,” said Annie, quite calmly, putting her finger on the line she had come to as she looked up. “But you had better not talk now,” she added, coaxingly; “it is very bad when you are still so weak.” Down went her head again; but, with characteristic tact, he insisted on continuing: “I don’t think I ever saw anybody so much altered. I suppose that is why you have come back. You found nobody else would admire you any longer, so it was time to come and saddle yourself on your husband.” Instead of being stung to the quick by this reproach, which was meant to be very severe, Annie had some difficulty in repressing an impulse to laugh; but she only said, soothingly: “It is all right, Harry; I am going away again as soon as ever you are well. I’ll turn away so”--and she moved the chair round to face the fire--“and then you won’t be annoyed by the sight of my ugly face.” She went on reading, or pretending to read, for some minutes, until her husband’s voice once more interrupted her. “A fine lot of affection you seem to have for me now you have come back! I dare say you wish I was dead all the time. Never even asking me how I feel! What did you come at all for?” Annie put down her book again, and came toward the bed. “I didn’t think it was good for you to talk just at first. I thought, if I sat quite quietly, you would go to sleep again.” “No, you didn’t; you wanted to read your book. What is it?” “It is a French book called ‘Consuelo.’” “French! Oh, of course--something too learned for me!” “It is not learned at all. I’ll translate it to you if you like; but I don’t think you would care much about it.” “Oh, no; it would be over my head, of course!”