Old Monica resisted this mandate; but Em. insisted, and finally the nurse compromised matters by simply lying down on the outside of the bed behind Ann Whitlock, where she soon fell fast asleep. Em. herself felt very drowsy, so, for fear of following old Monica’s example if she should sit in the old rocker over the fire, she drew a very _un_easy, hard, and high-backed chair to the side of the bed and sat down to watch her patient. When feeling herself almost overcome by sleep she would rise and walk noiselessly up and down the room. If her patient stirred she would give her a teaspoonful or more of beef tea and brandy, which the sick woman would swallow mechanically. If the fire burned low she mended it by putting on fresh logs. And so she passed the night in the sick-room. When morning dawned she did not wake old Monica; but the aged are never long or heavy sleepers; so, as the first rays of the rising sun streamed through the open slats of the window shutters, the old nurse opened her eyes, sat bolt upright on the bed, took an instant to collect her faculties, and then got down and said: “Lord bless you, honey, for dis ’freshing nap as I have had! Now, tell me how you bofe got along ’dout me.” “You bofe” being supposed to signify the young nurse and her patient, Em. gave Monica a full and satisfactory report of the night’s watch. Then the girl went up to her own room, took a refreshing wash in ice-cold water, and after brushing her hair and changing her dress she felt as wide awake as if she had slept instead of watching all night long. She went down into the parlor, expecting to find some part of the family there in honor of their guest. She found no one but Ronald Bruce, standing with his back to the wood fire. He sprang to meet her. “Dear Em., I have been here since daybreak, hoping some good spirit favorable to poor, unfortunate lovers might whisper in your ear and send you down to see me,” he exclaimed as he took both her hands and drew her towards him. But she slipped away and evaded the kiss he meant, as she said to him: “Ronald, I _am_ glad to speak to you alone for a moment, and for the last time, dear Ronald, until our meeting shall be sanctioned by my parents and your uncle.” “Little prude! Little prig!” muttered the young man, half sulkily, half lovingly. “I wanted to tell you, Ronald, that my mother and father both love you very dearly. Indeed, you ought to know that.” “Perhaps I do know it and presume on it a little.” “But for all that, Ronald, for reasons that you know of my father intends this morning to put you upon your honor never to come to this house or seek my presence again until you can come with your uncle’s sanction.” “As if my uncle had a parent’s authority over a man twenty-three years old!” impatiently burst forth the youth.