It was long ere he could congratulate himself upon any measure of success. The little that Carice had hitherto known of Doctor Remy, she had intuitively disliked. She now acknowledged that she had scarcely done him justice in her thought; or he had changed since then. Occasionally, in his mention of his poorer patients, there peeped out traits of thoughtful kindness and generosity,--or something that looked like them,--for which she would never have given him credit. She was glad to know that he was better than he had seemed. But here the matter ended, so far as she was concerned. She did not care for him, personally; she shunned his visits, as much as possible; when compelled to be present, she oftenest sat a little apart, thinking her own thoughts over her embroidery or her drawing, and letting the brightest flow of his conversation pass by her unheeded. But so consummate a social strategist as Doctor Remy was not thus to be baffled. One day, he took fitting occasion to bring Bergan's name into his talk,--speaking of him quietly and unconcernedly, as it was natural to speak of a man with whom he had been intimately associated for some months,--and speaking of him kindly, too, as of one for whom he entertained a real regard. Carice turned away her head, and tears sprang to her eyes. It was so long since she had heard Bergan's name spoken in a friendly tone, and unaccompanied by a disparaging commentary! When she ventured to look at Doctor Remy, it was with a soft, grateful expression, which he did not fail to detect and understand. There was a certain wistfulness, also, as of a flower which, having been refreshed by one little drop of unexpected dew, opens its petals for more. This, too, the doctor understood, and was too wise to disappoint. "By the way," said he, turning to Mr. Bergan, "perhaps I can give you the latest news from your sister,--I had a letter from Mr. Arling this morning." Carice's heart gave a great leap, of mingled pleasure and pain. At last she was to hear something;--yet, certainly, it ought not to be in this roundabout way. "It will be the earliest news as well as the latest," responded Mr. Bergan, drily; "I have heard nothing, as yet." "Is it possible!" exclaimed Doctor Remy, with well-feigned surprise; "I had no idea of that. Still, severe sickness is an engrossing guest in a house, as I often have occasion to notice; outside friends are apt to be forgotten, or rather ignored, except as they can be made useful. Probably, Arling would not have written to me, if he had not wanted something supplementary to certain medical suggestions with which I furnished him, when he left, and which seem to have been of use. Anyway, I am glad to be able to tell you that the fever has passed the crisis."