“No doubt there is plenty,” said Miss Gale, sharply; “and, by my authority, I postpone it all till you are stronger. Bid us good-by for the present, Mr. Vizard.” “I obey,” said he. “But, madam, please remember I am always at your service. Send for me when you please, and the oftener the better for me.” “Thank you, my kind host. Oblige me with your hand.” He gave her his hand. She took it, and put her lips to it with pure and gentle and seemly gratitude, and with no loss of dignity, though the act was humble. He turned his head away, to hide the emotion that act and the touch of her sweet lips caused him; Miss Gale hurried him out of the room. “You naughty patient,” said she; “you must do nothing to excite yourself.” “Sweet physician, loving nurse, I am not excited.” Miss Gale felt her heart to see. “Gratitude does not excite,” said Ina. “It is too tame a feeling in the best of us.” “That is a fact,” said Miss Gale; “so let us all be grateful, and avoid exciting topics. Think what I should feel if you had a relapse. Why, you would break my heart.” “Should I?” “I really think you would, tough as it is. One gets so fond of an unselfish patient. You cannot think how rare they are, dear. You are a pearl. I cannot afford to lose you.” “Then you shall not,” said Ina, firmly. “Know that I, who seem so weak, am a woman of great resolution. I will follow good counsel; I will postpone all dangerous topics till I am stronger; I will live. For I will not grieve the true friends calamity has raised me.” Of course Fanny told Zoe all about this interview. She listened gloomily; and all she said was, “Sisters do not go for much when a man is in love.” “Do brothers, when a woman is?” said Fanny. “I dare say they go for as much as they are worth.” “Zoe, that is not fair. Harrington is full of affection for you. But you will not go near him. Any other man would be very angry. Do pray make an effort, and come down to dinner to-day.” “No, no. He has you and his Klosking. And I have my broken heart. I _am_ alone; and so will be all alone.” She cried and sobbed, but she was obstinate, and Fanny could only let her have her own way in that. Another question was soon disposed of. When Fanny invited her into the sickroom, she said, haughtily, “I go there no more. Cure her, and send her away--if Harrington will let her go. I dare say she is to be pitied.” “Of course she is. She is your fellow-victim, if you would only let yourself see it.” “Unfortunately, instead of pitying her, I hate her. She has destroyed my happiness, and done herself no good. He does not love her, and never will.” Fanny found herself getting angry, so she said no more; for she was determined nothing should make her quarrel with poor Zoe; but after dinner, being _te'te-'a-te'te_ with Vizard, she told him she was afraid Zoe could not see things as they were; and she asked him if he had any idea what had become of Severne. “Fled the country, I suppose.”