“I am obliged to confess that I do not know her name,” the doctor admitted, smiling. “I doubt if she knows mine either. We have not stopped to exchange cards in this business; it has been of too serious a nature to admit of much ceremony. I call her ‘madam,’ and she has, naturally, addressed me as ‘doctor.’” “She seems a thorough lady,” said his patient, thoughtfully. She had, as Sir William once told her she would, changed her ideas somewhat regarding American people since coming to this country. “You are right, madam,” replied the physician, emphatically. “It has never been my privilege to meet a more cultured lady nor a truer woman. I shall certainly ask her to favor me with her name and address before she leaves.” “Is she going away?” demanded Lady Linton, quickly. “Yes; in a day or two, I believe; her maid is doing nicely now and able to travel. But, bless me, I must not sit chattering here when there are more than forty patients waiting for me.” And the brisk little doctor trotted off, leaving Lady Linton looking very thoughtful, and wondering who her mysterious but beautiful nurse might be. CHAPTER VI. “I AM THE WOMAN YOUR BROTHER LOVED.” The morning after the foregoing conversation between Lady Linton and her physician, Virgie went in to see the invalid, taking her daughter with her. She had come to take leave of her ladyship, for they were going away to some quiet resort for a few weeks, for Mina’s sake, and after that home to New York. She brought Virgie as a sort of shield from embarrassment, for she dreaded any effusions of gratitude from the woman who, she felt sure, would hate her even now, in spite of all she had done for her, for having won her brother’s love; while, too, she had a curiosity to see if she would be attracted toward her child; she was a believer in the old adage that “blood is thicker than water.” The invalid’s face lighted the moment the door opened to admit her kind attendant. “I am so glad to see you,” she cried, heartily; then her glance fell upon the beautiful child, and she added, with evident delight: “And you have brought your little daughter with you! Come here, dear, and let me see if you are as lovely as your mamma.” She held out both hands to her and the little one went composedly forward and stood before her, her dark eyes searching the woman’s face with a look that thrilled her strangely, while she was deeply impressed with her wonderful beauty. “You are very like your mamma,” said Lady Linton, smiling down upon the sweet child; “all excepting your eyes. I rather imagine that those came from papa. What is your name, dear?” “Virgie.” Her ladyship started slightly and glanced quickly at the child’s mother, and something that she saw in that beautiful countenance made her grow suddenly pale.