"Where are you going?" said the latter. "Up to Capel's room." "What, again?" "Yes," she said, "again." "But what have you found out?" "Wait and see." "Wait and see? I'm sick of it all," he cried, angrily. "I feel as if I were buried alive, and to make matters worse, you're always away. Look here, I don't like your going and nursing that fellow." "You stupid boy!" she said softly; and she turned upon him a look that made him catch her in his arms and press his lips to hers. For a few moments she made no resistance, but seemed to be returning his caress. Then, with an angry wrench, she extricated herself from his grasp. "How dare you!" she cried. "How dare? Oh, come, that's good." "You are acting like a fool!" She sailed out of the room just as Preenham opened the door, and as he drew back for her to pass, Artis threw himself into a chair, while Katrine slowly ascended the stairs, listening intently to the low murmur of voices in the library. A few minutes before, the quiet, grave-looking professional nurse had ascended to the sick room from the housekeeper's room, where she had just partaken of her dinner, and found, as she entered, silently, Lydia on her knees by the bedside, with a straight bar of light from the window throwing her into bold relief against the dark curtains. The nurse advanced softly, and glanced at Capel, who seemed to be sleeping easily, and then lightly touched Lydia on the shoulder. "Asleep, miss?" she said. Lydia raised her white face, haggard and livid with sleeplessness and anxiety. "No," she said softly, as she let herself sink into the low chair at the bed's head. "No, not asleep." "But you are quite done up, miss," said the nurse. "Now, pray do go and lie down for a few hours. He is better, I'm sure of it. I do know, indeed. I've seen so much of this sort of thing. I was in the French hospitals all through the war." "But, are you sure?" "I'm quite certain, miss. Now, you can't go on like this. You must have rest. Take my advice, and go and have a good sleep, and then you can come and watch again." "But if--" "If anything happens, miss, I'll call you." "You promise me?" "Faithfully, miss. There, trust to me." Lydia had risen, and she tottered as she took a step or two, when the nurse caught her in her arms, and the poor girl's strength gave way entirely now. The nurse's confident words that Capel was getting better, robbed her of the last bond of self-control, and, as the woman tenderly supported her, and whispered a few soothing words, Lydia's head went down on the nurse's breast, and she burst into a low, passionate fit of hysterical tears. "There, you'll be better now," whispered the nurse, as Lydia raised her piteous white face. "Now go and have a few hours' sleep." Lydia nodded, recovered her self-command, and went to the bed, bent over and gazed earnestly in the patient's face, and then left the room.