It was nine o’clock when Tarbot arrived. Nurse Ives was waiting for his step. If he lifted the little knocker on her door and sounded a rat-tat the child might awake. Accordingly, the nurse kept the door open. Once or twice she went out into the passage and looked over the banister. Tarbot’s steps would be distinctly heard upon the stone stairs, and it was necessary to bring him into the room as quietly as possible. He was a man who invariably kept his appointments to the minute. Nurse Ives was certain he would come about nine o’clock, and he verified her belief by arriving two minutes after the hour. “Ha, nurse!” he said when he saw her. She had dressed herself for the occasion, and with great care. She had changed her nurse’s dress for one of blue velvet, of a deep rich tone of blue, the gift of a former patient. It suited the woman well, bringing out the best points in her face and figure. She wore ruffles of real lace round her throat and wrists; her hair she had managed to dress with skill, fluffing it out and making the most of it. Its redness now became a positive beauty. Nurse Ives knew the necessity of striking while the iron was hot, and of making in every respect as good an effect as possible. Having attended to her own person and made it as attractive as she could, she next turned her attention to the little room, which now appeared almost pretty. The gas stove burned brightly, the atmosphere was warm, but not too warm. On the center table was a lamp with a rose-colored shade. The disfiguring gas, which always tries the prettiest face, was not lit. The light round the table was rosy. Nurse Ives sat in this warm glow; it softened her features, rendering them almost beautiful. She was very pale, but the rose light gave her just the right touch of color. The red mark on her forehead was hidden by the cunning way in which she had arranged her hair. At the first glance Tarbot scarcely knew her, but at the second he recognized her. In his heart of hearts he disliked her all the more for dressing up in velvet and trying to assume the manner and appearance of a fashionable woman. He knew well why she did it, and he said to himself that he was paying a terribly heavy price for his revenge. He was beginning already to repent, but he was not a man ever to turn back. He held out his hand to the nurse now, and entered the room with a cheery step. “You did capitally,” he said. “Capitally! No one could have managed better.” To hear him speak, one might have supposed that he was congratulating the nurse on having brought a patient back from the borders of the grave. She took his cue, and replied in much the same tone. “Having pleased you,” she answered, “I have nothing further to desire.”