'I will do anything you ask me to do, but will you in return promise to write and tell me how she is getting on, and if she is in any danger?' 'I think I can promise to do that; I will write and tell you how Olive is in a few days. Now we must say good-bye; and you will not forget your promise to me, as I shall not forget mine to you.' When Alice went upstairs, Dr. Reed and Mrs. Barton were talking on the landing. 'And what do you think, doctor?' asked the anxious mother. 'It is impossible to say. She has evidently received a severe nervous shock, and this and the exposure to which she was subjected may develop into something serious. You will give her that Dover's powder to-night, and you will see that she has absolute quiet and rest. Have you got a reliable nurse?' 'Yes, the young ladies have a maid; I think Barnes can be trusted to carry out your orders, doctor.' 'Oh, mamma, I hope you will allow me to nurse my sister; I should not like to leave her in charge of a servant.' 'I am afraid you are not strong enough, dear.' 'Oh, yes, I am; am I not strong enough, doctor?' Dr. Reed looked for a moment steadily at Alice. 'Your sister will,' he said, 'require a good deal of looking after. But if you will not overdo it, I think you seem quite strong enough to nurse her. But you must not sit up at night with her too regularly; you must share the labour with someone.' 'She will do that with me,' said Mrs. Barton, speaking more kindly, Alice thought, than she had ever heard her speak before. Then a wailing voice was heard calling to Alice. 'Go in and see what she wants, dear, but you will not encourage her to talk much; the doctor does not wish it.' The room did not look the same to Alice as it had ever looked before. Her eyes fell on the Persian rugs laid between the two white beds and the tall glass in the wardrobe where Olive wasted half-an-hour every evening, examining her beauty. Would she ever do so again? Now a broken reflection of feverish eyes and blonde hair was what remained. The white curtains of the chimneypiece had been drawn aside, a bright fire was burning, and Barnes was removing a foot-pan of hot water. 'Sit down here by me, Alice; I want to talk to you.' 'The doctor has forbidden you to talk, dear; he says you must have perfect rest and quiet.' 'I must talk a little to you; if I didn't I should go mad.' 'Well, what is it, dear?' 'I will tell you presently,' said the sick girl, glancing at Barnes. 'You can tidy up the room afterwards, Barnes; Miss Olive wants to talk to me now.' 'Oh, Alice, tell me,' cried the girl, when the servant had left the room, 'I don't want to ask mamma--she won't tell me the exact truth; but you will. Tell me what the doctor said. . . . Did he say I was going to die?' 'Going to die? Olive, who ever heard of such a thing? You really must not give way to such fancies.' 'Well, tell me what he said.'