Mr. Mildman, the medical attendant of the family, soon made his appearance, and, after a slight examination, dispelled every fear of any serious consequences, commended the skill of the cook, and said he should not interfere with her remedy, except, indeed, by a little soothing medicine, or, perhaps, a little ointment to allay the irritation of the burn, gently commiserated with Mabel on the terror she had suffered, made a few jocose compliments to Caroline on her usefulness, and hurried away again. "I thought," said Caroline, returning to the sitting-room, "that Mabel professed to have too strong a mind to faint for such a trifle--Mr. Mildman says it is a mere nothing." "If," said Hargrave, severely, "you had as many bitter recollections connected with that terrible word 'fire' as she has, poor orphan, you would believe that the strongest nerves would fail, sometimes." Mrs. Villars looked entreatingly at her, and managed, by dint of many signs, to suppress the angry reply which was rising to her lips. This she the more easily did, as Hargrave seemed bent on making her forget the rudeness of which he had been guilty; he laughed and talked and sang, and did whatever they asked him, with so good a grace, that, in a few minutes, he succeeded in restoring her good humour, even to her own surprise, and led by his example, and rejoicing in its magic effect, the whole party were soon in the gayest spirits--though none gayer than Hargrave himself. Meanwhile, Mabel, having escaped from the hands of the cook, who wished to imprison her to the sofa, returned to Lucy's room--and, fearing that she might be prevented from remaining with her, suppressed every sensation of the acute pain she was suffering, lest, perhaps, she might lose the only opportunity of winning the wounded heart of the wilful and fickle girl. Had the high mental abilities she possessed, usurped the power over her heart, which her fond father had once feared, she might have looked on her companion's sorrows with contempt, as she saw her, by turns, forgetting, without contending with affliction, at others, bending before it in despair. But the path of sorrow had not been trodden by her in vain. Under its chastising influence, she had learnt the softer feelings most fitting a woman's nature, and could see, with childish simplicity, the value of a single spark of Heavenly flame above all the mental light, which, without it, might illuminate a world. She had placed, with careful hands, the veil of charity over eyes which could have detected faults under the shrewdest disguise; and, while she could not hide from herself the fact that Lucy was selfish, weak, and vain, she hoped, and, perhaps, not unjustly, that a better nature might slumber beneath, waiting but the kindly culture of a friendly hand to call it into life and being.