“How dared you come?” he asked below his breath. “The general insisted.” “And you could not change his purpose; poor woman!” “You will not be pitied, neither will I,” and her eyes flashed; then the fire was quenched in tears, and her voice lost all its pride in a pleading tone. “Forgive me, I longed to see you since your illness, and so I 'dared' to come.” “You shall be gratified; look, quite helpless, crippled for life, perhaps.” The chair was turned from the groups about the fire, and as he spoke, with a bitter laugh Treherne threw back the skin which covered his knees, and showed her the useless limbs once so strong and fleet. She shrank and paled, put out her hand to arrest him, and cried in an indignant whisper, “No, no, not that! You know I never meant such cruel curiosity, such useless pain to both--” “Be still, someone is coming,” he returned inaudibly; adding aloud, as he adjusted the skin and smoothed the rich fur as if speaking of it, “Yes, it is a very fine one, Jasper gave it to me. He spoils me, like a dear, generous-hearted fellow as he is. Ah, Octavia, what can I do for you?” “Nothing, thank you. I want to recall myself to Mrs. Snowdon's memory, if she will let me.” “No need of that; I never forget happy faces and pretty pictures. Two years ago I saw you at your first ball, and longed to be a girl again.” As she spoke, Mrs. Snowdon pressed the hand shyly offered, and smiled at the spirited face before her, though the shadow in her own eyes deepened as she met the bright glance of the girl. “How kind you were that night! I remember you let me chatter away about my family, my cousin, and my foolish little affairs with the sweetest patience, and made me very happy by your interest. I was homesick, and Aunt could never bear to hear of those things. It was before your marriage, and all the kinder, for you were the queen of the night, yet had a word for poor little me.” Mrs. Snowdon was pale to the lips, and Maurice impatiently tapped the arm of his chair, while the girl innocently chatted on. “I am sorry the general is such an invalid; yet I dare say you find great happiness in taking care of him. It is so pleasant to be of use to those we love.” And as she spoke, Octavia leaned over her cousin to hand him the glove he had dropped. The affectionate smile that accompanied the act made the color deepen again in Mrs. Snowdon's cheek, and lit a spark in her softened eyes. Her lips curled and her voice was sweetly sarcastic as she answered, “Yes, it is charming to devote one's life to these dear invalids, and find one's reward in their gratitude. Youth, beauty, health, and happiness are small sacrifices if one wins a little comfort for the poor sufferers.” The girl felt the sarcasm under the soft words and drew back with a troubled face. Maurice smiled, and glanced from one to the other, saying significantly, “Well for me that my little nurse loves her labor, and finds no sacrifice in it. I am fortunate in my choice.”