While Robinson evidently gained,--though his attacks of pain were still marked by his own peculiar whistling, which we constantly heard in the ladies’ room, and always knew how to interpret,--Darlington was as evidently losing; and all hopes of amputation were necessarily abandoned. I could feel nothing but the most intense pity for him, and longing to comfort him; but it seemed impossible. M. said to me one day, “It certainly seems best, from what we see and hear of Darlington, to send, not take, his nourishment to him; and yet, perhaps our presence might be more welcome; but I hesitate, because the sight of any one coming near him seems to throw him into such a nervous state.” “Yes,” said I, “any one but Richards; doesn’t it seem a strange fancy?” And so we went on, for a week or more longer; for our interest in the case was so great, that even when not on duty at the hospital, we felt that we must know its progress. One day the surgeon came to me and begged me to try to cheer up Darlington, he was so down-hearted, would taste no food, etc.; must certainly sink unless some change could be made in his feelings. I went to his bedside at once, to see if he were awake, for much of the time he was kept under the effect of anodyne, to deaden the excessive pain. For many a long day did that look of deep, profound wretchedness haunt me, as he raised his soft, clear blue eyes to mine, and said, in the most earnest, pleading tone, “Dear lady, please to go away, I am so very wretched.” Any one who had ever suffered realized that there was no crossness here; physical suffering, acute and intense, was written in every line of his face, sounded in every tone of his voice, and most earnestly did I long to soothe him. Without answering, I drew back, and laid my cold hands on his burning brow. His whole expression changed. “You like it,” I said; “I am so glad; we have all been wishing so much to do something to comfort you.” A sweet smile, more touching than tears, passed over the poor white face, followed the next moment by the painful contraction of the muscles from suffering. “But I want _her_!” “Ah!” said I, “that sister! No one can take her place; we will write, and she can soon be here; she would come further than from Michigan, I am sure, to see a sick brother who loves her as you do.” With more energy than I had ever seen in him, he lifted his head from the pillow, saying eagerly, “Never, never write to her; I wouldn’t have her see me so for all----” But here, either from the effort, or from a sudden increase of pain, faintness came on; strong stimulants and the doctor’s presence were needed, and I left him. This, I trusted, however, might be a beginning. The next day, when I came to him, he looked much sunken, and seemed altogether lower than I had yet seen him. He smiled, however, and tried to lift his hand, and point to his head.