The person who had fired the shot had learned the effect of it from the newspapers, and being rich and sorry, had put his fortune at the disposal of the victim, and none of it was to be spared if it might help in the least to make him perfectly well again. Every cent of the very many the person had was at his disposal. And that his disposal of it might be the more free from embarrassment, he preferred to remain anonymous himself, and to make the hospital, or the nurse herself, if the victim preferred that, his almoner. “Preferred to remain anonymous!” laughed Ravant. “He preferred to keep out of jail. I’d have him there in no time if I knew who he was!” “It appears,” said the nurse, “that he did not know his pistol was loaded.” Ravant exploded again—first with mirth, then with vengeance. “The infernal old sneak and liar! To shoot a man simply because he happened to be drunk! Thank God a jag is not capital yet! It is no excuse to say that he didn’t know it was loaded. When he took up that pistol, it was with intent to kill. And, if I still remember any law, that is enough to hang him—” “But they don’t hang people,” gasped the little nurse, “for anything but murder, do they?” “I was going to say _if he had killed me_.” “Oh!” “Anyhow, we’ll make it the dearest lesson to the gentlemen who do not know it is loaded that ever was taught! We will spend that last cent of his. If not, we’ll throw it away! We are going to Europe at his expense. I need that to complete my recovery. And even then I will always wear this plate on my head in memory of him! And we’ll let the newspapers have it. It may prevent some other drunkard from such happiness as I am now enjoying, and teach the idiot with an empty gun to respect it as if it were loaded. I’ll be a missionary to my drunken kind all the world over! What do you say? By the way, what is your name?” “Brown,” said the nurse. “Whew!” said the invalid. “We can’t change that—can we?” “No.” “Marriage would do it.” “Yes.” “Ravant is better than Brown, eh?” But then he laughed—he had frightened her! “What’s your first name?” “Rachel.” “Heavens! But we might call you Ray. Ray Brown is not impossible. Did you notice that when I spoke of going to Europe and spending the old man’s money, I said _we_?” “Yes,” said the girl. “And it didn’t appeal to you?—make your little heart flutter—Ray?” “No.” “But you would help to try to ruin the old man?” “I think it just for you to punish him in that way—but I am only a nurse.” “Well—you are going with me—and that is the end of it. I need you and shall need you for a long time. In fact, I shall need you always. But, since you won’t marry me, as a nurse you will go!” “Impossible! Mr. Ravant!” gasped the girl. “Which?” snarled Ravant, in the old manner. “Going to Europe with you—as your nurse—alone—” “Well, then, we’ll take a chaperon. The old man must pay for her too.” The girl was silent.