Nora made no answer. She was thankful for the half-light, thankful that the large, dark eyes had closed as though in utter weariness. They had frightened her just as the conclusive "I know everything" had done by their infallible mysterious knowledge. "And even if you do know everything," she thought, "why should I mind?—why should I be afraid?" Nevertheless, fear was hammering at her heart as she turned away. Frau von Arnim took her by the hand. "She seems asleep," she whispered. "Let us leave her until the doctor comes. Then we shall know better what to do." It was as though she had become suddenly anxious to get Nora away from the sick girl’s bedside, and Nora yielded without protest. She felt that Hildegarde’s need of her had passed; that she had indeed only waited to ask that one question, "Did anything happen?" before sinking into a feverish stupor. Silent, and strangely sick at heart, Nora followed Frau von Arnim from the room into the passage. There the elder woman took the troubled young face between her hands and kissed it. "Hildegarde loves you," she said gravely. "I perhaps know best how much; but she has lost a great deal that makes life worth living, Nora, and sometimes bitterness rises above every other feeling. When that happens you must have pity and understanding. You must try and imagine what it would be like if you lost health and strength——" She stopped short, but Nora, struggling with the hard, painful lump in her throat, did not notice the break. She saw only in the sad eyes the same appeal that had met her on the first evening, "Be pitiful!" and, obeying an irresistible impulse, she put her arms about Frau von Arnim’s neck in an outburst of conflicting feeling. "I do understand!" she cried brokenly. "And I am so dreadfully sorry. I would do anything to help her—to make her happy!" "I know you would, dear Nora; but that is not in your power or mine. She must learn happiness out of herself, as soon or late we all must do. We can only wait and be patient." They said no more, but they kept together, as people do who find an instinctive consolation in each other’s presence. An hour later the doctor arrived. He pronounced high fever, apparently without any direct cause, and ordered quiet and close watching. "So far, it seems nothing serious," he said, with a thoughtful shake of the head, "but she is delicate and over-sensitive. Every mental excitement will work inevitably upon her health. She must be spared all trouble and irritation." According to his suggestion, Frau von Arnim and Nora shared the task of watching in the sick-room. There was nothing for them to do, for Hildegarde lay inert and silent, apparently unconscious of their presence, and the hours slipped heavily past. At ten o’clock Nora took up her post. She had slept a little, and the dark rings beneath Frau von Arnim’s eyes caused her to say gently: "You must rest as long as you can. I am not tired. I could watch all night."