"My child, your life has been spared. Patience. What seems so black now may appear brighter in time. You have those you love about you, and there is the faint hope that some day you may recover." "Faint hope, doctor?" "I must say faint, my child. And now good-bye. I shall hear about you from our friend North. I congratulate you on having so able a friend. You may trust him implicitly. Good-bye." He raised her hand to his lips--a very unprofessional proceeding, but it did not seem so to Mary, as she lay there and watched the bedroom door close. "Trust him? Yes," sighed Mary, as she lay with her hands clasped, thinking of Horace North's many kindly attentions to his patient. "Yes, to his patient!" she said bitterly. "A hopeless cripple! Oh, God, give me strength to bear it without repining. Good-bye, good-bye, my love-- my love!" There was a little scene going on in the dining-room at the Rectory, for in spite of Mrs Berens' protestations, Mary Salis had been carried home. The curate had thanked the old surgeon for coming down, and the old man had nodded, to stand thoughtfully, hat in hand, gazing out of the window with Salis. "A very sad case, Mr Salis--a very sad case. So young and innocent and sweet." "Then there is no hope, sir?" said the curate hoarsely. "Of her regaining her strength, sir?" "Very little. But of her recovering sufficiently to lead a gentle, resigned, patient life, yes. You are a clergyman, sir. I need not preach to you of duty. Ah, Mr North, what about the train?" "One moment, sir," said the doctor, interrupting the whispered conversation he was holding with the curate. The next minute he had asked the great surgeon a question, and received a short decisive answer, which was communicated to Salis. "But, my dear sir," he said, in remonstrance, "I have brought you down here on professional business. I am not a rich man. but still not so poor that--" "My dear Mr Salis, I am a rich man," said the old surgeon, smiling, "and partly from my acquaintance with Dr North, partly from the pleasure it has given me to meet your sweet sister, I feel so much interest in her case that I must beg of you not to spoil a pleasant friendly meeting by introducing money matters. No, no; don't be proud, my dear sir. I possess certain knowledge. Don't deprive me of the pleasure of trying to benefit Miss Salis." "He's a fine old fellow as ever breathed," said North, returning to the Rectory, after seeing the great surgeon to the station. "A true gentleman," said the curate sadly. "How can I ever repay him?" "He told me--by helping your poor sister to get well." "Ah!" sighed the curate; "it is a terrible blow." "Terrible," acquiesced North. "But she'll bear it, sir, ten times better than her sister Leo would. By the way, I haven't seen her." "No; I have just been asking about her. The scene was too painful for her, poor girl, and she went out so as to be away."