In a minute’s time she found herself wrapped in her shawl and seated with Hubert in the doctor’s coupé. A few moments more and the doctor received them at the door of Roger’s room. They passed in, and Nora went straight to the bed. Hubert stood an instant and saw her drop on her knees beside the pillow. She flung back her shawl with vehemence, as if to release her arms; she was throwing them round her friend. Hubert went on into the adjoining chamber, of which the door stood open. The room was dark, the other lit by a night-lamp. He stood listening awhile, but heard nothing; then he began to walk slowly to and fro, past the doorway. He could see nothing but the shining train of Nora’s dress lying on the carpet beyond the angle of the bed. He wanted terribly to see more, but he feared to see too much. At moments he thought he heard whispers. This lasted some time; then the doctor came in, with what seemed to him an odd, unprofessional smile. “The young lady knows a few remedies not taught in the schools,” he whispered. “He has recognized her. He is good for to-night, at least. Half an hour ago he had no pulse at all, but this has started it. I will come back in an hour.” After he had gone Lucinda came, self-commissioned, and shut the door in Hubert’s face. He stood a moment, with an unreasoned sense of insult and defeat. Then he walked straight out of the house. But the next morning, after breakfast, a more generous sentiment moved him to return. The doctor was just coming away. “It was a Daniel come to judgment,” the doctor declared. “I verily believe she saved him. He will be sitting up in a fortnight.” Hubert learned that, having achieved her miracle, Nora had returned to Mrs. Keith’s. What arts she had used he was left to imagine. He had still a sore feeling of having just missed a crowning joy; but there might yet be time to grasp it. He felt, too, an urgent need of catching a glimpse of the afterglow of Nora’s mystical effluence. He repaired to Mrs. Keith’s, hoping to find the young girl alone. But the elder lady, as luck would have it, was established in the drawing-room, and she made haste to inform him that Nora, fatigued by her “watching,” had not yet left her room. But if Hubert was sombre, Mrs. Keith was radiant. Now was her chance to preach her promised sermon; she had just come into possession of facts that furnished a capital text. “I suppose you will call me a meddling busybody,” she said. “I confess I seem to myself a model of forbearance. Be so good as to tell me in three words whether you are in love with Nora.” Taken thus abruptly to task, Hubert, after a moment’s trepidation, kept his balance. He measured the situation at a glance, and pronounced it bad. But if heroic urbanity would save it, he would be urbane. “It is hardly a question to answer in two words,” he answered, with an ingenuous smile. “I wish you could tell me!”