The nurse fought a brief battle with herself in silence. To bare the details of the story was like uncovering her heart to the world, but she saw the sympathy in Murray’s eyes, and she was personally helpless in a most trying emergency. She sorely needed a guiding hand. “Albert and I were engaged to be married,” she said at last, with simple frankness. “We had some trifling quarrel, and then this woman came between us. He was not rich, but he had some property and excellent prospects, and—well, they were married. It was an elopement—a matter of momentary pique, he told me afterward. God knows I never tried to interfere with their married life, and she had no reason to be jealous of me. I did not even see either of them, except at rare intervals, for a long time, but she could not forget or forgive the fact that we had been a great deal to each other. And she was selfish and extravagant. I am merely repeating the judgment of her own friends in this, for I do not wish to be unjust to her, even now. After I had forsaken society and become a trained nurse I heard something of their troubles: they were living beyond his income, and his income did not increase according to expectations. Perhaps the worry of such conditions made him less capable of improving his opportunities. At any rate, her extravagance created a great deal of comment, and he has told me since that they quarreled frequently over financial matters. Then I heard that they had separated and that he had given her nearly all of the little he had left. I was not trying to keep track of them or pry into their affairs, but there were mutual friends, and I could not help hearing what was common gossip. But I studiously avoided any chance of meeting either of them—until I heard that he was sick and alone. Then I went to him and cared for him. It was not proper, you will say? Perhaps not. It put me in a false position and invited scandal? Perhaps it did. But I went, and I would go again; I was there to soothe his last moments; I was with him when all others had forsaken him, and there is nothing in this life that I would not sacrifice for the glory of that memory!” The light of self-sacrificing love shone in her eyes as she made this final declaration, and Murray did not trust himself to speak for a moment or two. The story had been told so quietly, so simply, that the sudden emphasis at the conclusion was almost irresistible in the sublimity of its self-denying love. The great contrast between the two women made it all the stronger. “I shall consider it my personal privilege,” replied Murray, “to see that everything possible is done.” “Thank you,” said the nurse. “But there are still some points that will have to be cleared up,” continued Murray. “What made you think the policy was in your name?” “He told me he would have it changed, so that I could pay all the bills in case of his death,” said the nurse.