The doctor looked at him with a puzzled interest. But he had seen a good deal in his London hospital days, and he knew that such a thing as a deep fraternal devotion is not unknown, though certainly rare, among the lowest classes. "No, I hope not," he said; "she has a fine constitution, and I don't see why she should not pull through." Felix turned to look at the girl, moaning and tossing in her wrappings. She knew nobody, she had no need of him, she was going to be taken care of--he must let her go. With a rush the conviction came to him that he should never see her again. He had not wept for years, but tears blinded him now. They overflowed his eyes, and, to his fury, he had to lift his hand and dash them away. Who was he, the acquaintance of a moment, to have any claim upon her? Perhaps when she was rational again she would not remember that she had ever seen him. He had read of such things in books. Miss Rawson hurried up. "There, poor fellow," said she, with deep pity, "how glad I am that I just chanced to be down at the surgery when you called. It seems providential for your poor little sister! We shall take such care of her up at our sweet little hospital you won't know her when next you see her. Let me see, Smith you say the name is?" "Yes, miss. Rona Smith." Her kind hand was outstretched. He suddenly became aware that there was a coin in it. With a tremendous effort he resisted the impulse to push it away, and accepted it thankfully. He would be able to buy pen, ink, paper, stamp, and write a few lines for Rona to have when she was no longer delirious--words telling her the story he had fabricated, and coaching her in what she must say when she was questioned. "Thank you, miss," said he, meekly, adding, as he shut the carriage door, "and Gawd bless yer," with as thick an accent as he could assume. He had much more to say, but there was no time, the motor was off in two twos, as a member of the interested throng around remarked. "Ah! she's a good 'un, is Miss Rawson," pronounced a woman who was wiping her hands on a corner of her canvas apron. "A little bit of all right she is, and no mistake. Not like that last 'un they had up at Normansgrave, a painted Jezebel no better than a ----" She used a foul word vigorously. "Seemed queer a man of old Vanston's sort should 'a married such as her." "And the son no better, seemin'ly," chimed in a man leaning on a post. "I did 'ear 'e 'ad gone to the deuce as clean as a whistle; but, Lord! I ain't one to believe all I 'ear." "Not even your ears wouldn't be large enough down in these parts," said the woman, cheerfully, waddling into her cottage door. Felix, who had overheard this conversation, mooned down to the water's edge, his face set hard to prevent tears, and went aboard the _Sarah Dawkes_.