"Yes, you shall be free, darling; but you must do nothing rash. To-day has taught me that my dear girl is a woman of firmness and spirit; and, please God, all will come right in the end. There, this is enough. You are fluttered and feverish now, and delicate as you are, you require rest. It is getting late. Let me help you to undress for a good long night's rest. Sleep on it all, my child; out of the evil good will come, and you have shown them that they have not a baby to deal with, but a true woman, so matters are not so bad as they seem. Come, my little one." "I must and will leave here, nurse," said Kate, firmly. "Sleep on it, my child, and remember that after all you have won the day. Come, let me help you." "No, Liza, go now. I must sit for a while and think." "Better sleep, and think after a long rest." "No, dear; I wish to sit here in the quiet and silence first. Look, the moon is rising over the trees, and it seems to bring light into my weary brain. I'll go to bed soon. Please do as I wish, and leave me now-- Nurse, dear, do you think those who have gone from us ever come back in spirit to help us when we are in need?" "Heaven only knows, my darling," said the woman, looking startled. "But please don't talk like this--You really wish me to go?" "Yes, leave me now. I am going to make my plans for to-morrow." "To-morrow." "No, before I lie down to rest. Good-night." "You are mistress, and I am servant, my child. Good-night, then-- good-night." "Good-night," said Kate, and a minute later she had closed and re-locked the door, to turn and stand gazing at the window, whose blind was suffused with the soft silvery light of the slowly rising moon. CHAPTER FOURTEEN. "Who's the letter from, Pierce?" "One of the medical brokers, as they call themselves--the man I wrote to;" and the young doctor tossed the missive contemptuously across the breakfast table to his sister, who caught it up eagerly and read it through. "Of course," she cried, with her downy little rounded cheeks flushing, and a bright mocking look in her eyes; "and I quite agree with him. He says you are too modest and diffident about your practice; that the very fact of its being established so many years makes it of value; that no one would take it on the terms you propose, and that you must ask at least five hundred pounds, which would be its value plus a valuation of the furniture. How much did you ask?" "Nothing at all." "What!" cried Jenny, dropping her bread and butter. "I said I was willing to transfer the place to any enterprising young practitioner who would take the house off my hands, and the furniture." "Oh, you goose--I mean gander!" "Thank you, Sissy."