“I had good reason for coming,” he replied, gravely, and he bent down and gently removed the close dark hood that completely hid the face of his mysterious patient. As he did so a mass of damp golden hair fell in disheveled tresses over the pillow, and a pallid, lovely face was revealed, with delicately chiseled features, straight dark brows, and fringed black lashes lying heavily against a marble cheek. A cry burst from Mrs. Fielding’s lips: “It is Nina Strangemore! Oh, Arthur, what does it mean? Do not tell me she is dead!” CHAPTER XIX. WITH FRIENDS. Doctor Fielding turned his kind, grave eyes upon the frightened face of his pretty wife and shook his head. “No, she is not dead, Minnie, but I shall have to reserve all explanations until we have resuscitated her,” he said. “She is in a deep swoon now, and before we try to revive her I want you to bring some of your warm, dry garments and put them upon her. You see she is quite damp now. She has been in the water.” “In the water--oh, dear!” Minnie Fielding cried, with a shiver. “I will go and light a fire in the kitchen while you change your patient,” said her husband. “I daresay Mrs. Strangemore will need a cup of warm coffee when she revives.” “And I have been so lazy I have not made a drop this morning,” Mrs. Fielding cried, penitently. “Of course not--it is much too early for breakfast yet, but I will see about the coffee, dear, while you attend to your friend.” He slipped on a short gray dressing-gown and went out. Mrs. Fielding went about the task he had set her with tearful alacrity, pausing now and then to drop a kiss on the pale cheeks of the unconscious girl. “Oh, my dear little pupil, my sweet Nina, what has happened to you?” she cried, sorrowfully, as she buttoned up her own pretty blue dressing-gown upon the slim, girlish figure. Something in the sorrowful, tender words must have gone straight through the sealed consciousness of Nina for she stirred faintly and opened her eyes. Their dark wondering gaze fell on Mrs. Fielding’s tender tearful face. “Nina, my darling little girl,” she repeated, fondly, and chafing the cold little hands in both her own, “Oh, my little pupil, how glad I am to see you again. I have wished so often that you would come and see me in my humble, happy little home, and now my hope is fulfilled!” The dazed expression vanished out of the girl’s eyes, and full consciousness came into them--full consciousness of her sorrow. She could not answer the loving words of her old teacher. She looked back at her mutely with big, heavy dark eyes circled by wide, purple shadows, and full of hopeless misery. Then for the first time it dawned on Mrs. Fielding that her old pupil had come to her in sorrow and misery, not in joyful greeting. Those dark eyes so full of despair told their own story. All the agony of a breaking heart was in them.