"Hallo! Maryska, my dear!" he said, going to the bed and pressing her thin fingers with his own. He thought her terribly changed: the black eyes shone as those of a famished animal; the face was very white; the breathing laboured; the hands hot to the touch. But she smiled at him nevertheless and tried to sit up. "I've got the marsh fever," she said, as though satisfied by her own diagnosis, "it's your ship that did it. Why did you leave me in this damnable country when I was ill? Don't you hate it as much as my father did? Oh! I think you must, you really must." He was a little taken aback, and sat at the bedside before he answered her. Gabrielle nodded as who should say, "Now, you would like to talk to each other." Then she slipped away, and closed the door softly. The crackling of the logs and the ticking of the clock were loud sounds in the cheery room. "Why!" he exclaimed at last, "you surprise me, Maryska. I thought your father liked England?" She shook her head almost fiercely. "I'd tell you what _he_ said if she would let me! She says it's wrong. Why should it be, when my father said it? He called England--but there, it hurts me, boss. Oh! it hurts me so much!"--and with that she flung herself back on the pillow, warm tears of the memory in her eyes. He perceived that she had no business to be talking, and for some time he sat there, holding her hand and watching her. What a child she was, and with what justice had she called him from the platform of her age, an "old, old man." The tragic irony of his attempt to bring happiness into the life of the man who had befriended him struck him anew and would not be silenced. How little money could achieve when destiny opposed! He reflected that brains were the greater instrument and fell to wondering if brains had helped him in his dealings with Maryska. "Feeling any better, my dear?" he asked her by and by. She turned upon her side and looked at him with eyes pathetically round. "I should be all right if I could get away from England, Mr. Faber. Do you think that you can take me?" "Of course, I'll take you, Maryska. Where would you like to go to, my dear?" She thought upon it, biting the sheet with fine white teeth. Her white cheeks flushed with the effort. "I would like to live in a city where there are many lights--in Paris, I think. _He_ liked Paris. He said it was a bit of a hell, and he liked it. I told the wolf man with the whiskers that, and he said, 'Oh, hush, hush!' Why did he say that, Mr. Faber?" "Because, my dear, he's a clergyman, and your father was what we call a Bohemian. They don't say such words amongst our people. You mustn't be offended with them, Maryska; you must try to do what Gabrielle tells you." She looked up, her suspicion on an edge. "Are you going to marry Gabrielle?" "Why, how can you ask me that?" "Because I think that you are." "What would she want with 'an old, old man' like me?" Maryska reasoned it out.