"It was kind in you to come," she said at last, looking up into Mary's face. "I am very grateful. Flora says I'm horribly selfish to send for you, and no doubt I am; but it is better than going crazy, I suppose." Mary laid her hand on the throbbing forehead, and felt the quick pulses. "Do you feel really ill?" she asked; "or is this merely a state of nervous excitement?" "I'm not ill. I was never seriously ill in my life. I am only going distracted. I had an idea you might do something for me." "The first thing to be done is to quiet your nerves and reduce the fever. Then we will think of other remedies. I will get Flora's little medicine-chest, and see what its resources are." The morning passed quietly in tending Lady Sackvil, varied by occasional visits to the nursery. It was hard to bear, "but no harder than any thing else would be now," thought Mary. "If I can save this poor soul, it will be worth suffering great as this." By two o'clock, Amelia was physically more tranquil. Her health had always been excellent, and her temperament, though utterly undisciplined, by no means inclined to morbid excitability. "I have a note for you," said Mary; "will you read it?" "From whom?" "From my husband." Lady Sackvil shuddered, and turned away. "Don't give it to me," she said. "Read it, and tell me what it says." Mary read it through to herself; then, mastering her voice, read aloud the following words: "I was unjust to you yesterday. I treated you with cruelty. For what has happened, I am more responsible than you, because I have been under better influences. We shall never meet again. God bless you, and grant us both genuine repentance!" Amelia made no comment or reply. A quarter of an hour later, she said, "You go to confession very often, I suppose?" "Once a week." "Who is your confessor?" "Padre Giulio, at St. Mark's." "Is he old?" "Yes." "Wise?" "Yes." "Kind?" "Very kind." "I should like to see him. I don't suppose that I intend going to confession, but I want to talk with such a man. Has he had much to do with making you what you are?" "He has given me good advice, and I have tried to follow it, if that is what you mean." Lady Sackvil looked at Mary fixedly for some time. "I made up my mind, a short time ago," she said, "that the thing most likely to convince me of the direct influence of God would be to see a Christian whose character would bear scrutiny under the severest test. I have seen such a Christian in you. Most women would have spurned me away in disdain; you have treated me like a sister. I thank you for it, and I should like to believe what you believe." Mary smiled at the reasoning, but thanked God for the conclusion. "You would find Padre Giulio very sympathizing," she said; "I think it would soothe you to see him. Shall I send for him to come here?" "On no account. I will go to him if you will come with me. Do come with me; I will bless you all my life," she added pleadingly.