"She seemed to think she could render no assistance; and, fearing that all would be over before we could get here, preferred my coming at once and writing to her of his condition. Ah! she is miserably fitted for such scenes as you must have witnessed." And the gray- haired man sighed heavily. "What! can she bear to commit her husband to other hands at such a crisis as this? How can she live away from his side when every hour may be his last? Oh, is she indeed so utterly, utterly heartless, selfish, callous? Poor Eugene! Better find release from such a union in death than go through life bound to a wife so unblushingly indifferent!" Her face was one flash of scorn and indignation, and, extending her hand toward the restless invalid, she continued in a lower tone: "She has deserted her sacred post; but a truer, better friend, one who has always loved him as a brother, will supply her place. All that a sister's care can do, assuredly he shall have." "You are very kind, Miss Beulah; my family are under lasting obligations to you for your generous attentions to that poor boy of ours, and I--" "No. You understand little of the nature of our friendship. We were orphan children, warmly attached to each other, before you took him to a home of wealth and lavish indulgence. Were he my own brother, I could not feel more deeply interested in his welfare, and while he requires care and nursing I consider it my privilege to watch over and guard him. There is Dr. Asbury in the hall; he can tell you better than I of his probable recovery," Ah, reader, is "Friendship but a name? A charm that lulls to Bleep, A shade that follows wealth or fame, And leaves the wretch to weep?"