“No; I have scarcely seen her since; she was called away elsewhere,” murmured Sister Angela. “Are you ill, sister?” madam inquired a moment later, as she noticed that she pressed her hand to her side as if in sudden pain. “No; it was only a sudden pain; it will soon pass,” she explained. “You must be careful; you must not neglect yourself,” returned madam, kindly; “for I do not know what we should do without you. Oh, save my son! he is my idol! It would kill me to lose him. Save him, and I shall bless you all the days of my life!” and the woman, still somewhat weak from her own recent illness, wept and broke down utterly as she looked upon the unconscious sufferer. The nun did not reply for a moment, then lifting her clasped hands, which were locked in a viselike grip, to her bosom, she said, brokenly: “God rules! I know not if he can live; but, if human care can avail, he—shall not die!” Madam thought her very sympathetic, and then after asking if she needed anything for her comfort, went away to her own room for the night. The door had scarcely closed behind her when Sister Angela sank upon her knees beside the bed and buried her face in her hands, while convulsive, yet low sobs shook her slight form from head to foot. She was so absorbed in the emotion that had overcome her that she was oblivious of all else, until, all at once, she felt a touch upon her head, and a feeble voice murmured: “My darling! my darling!” A quiver ran over her frame; she lifted her face and gazed upon her patient. But he did not appear to be conscious of her presence; his eyes were partially unclosed and he seemed to be looking off into vacancy, as if he saw some one beyond her. His hand had slipped from her head, as she raised it, and now lay upon the bed before her. As if seized with some sudden impulse, which she could not control, she leaned forward and pressed her lips passionately upon it, a pitiful sob bursting from them as she did so. It was a strange—a very strange thing for a Sister of Mercy to do; but there was no eye to see the act, and even her charge himself did not notice it. She soon recovered herself, however, and arose from her kneeling position, murmuring: “God is merciful, He will not let him die.” A little later, while she was feeding him, she heard the door behind her softly open again, and turning she saw a white robed figure standing in the aperture. She stood as if paralyzed a moment; then a low, startled exclamation broke from her. “Hush!” said the intruder, holding up a warning hand. “I do not wonder you are startled, for I suppose I look like a ghost, but I could not sleep without knowing just how he is to-night.” The nurse turned back to the bedside, as Miss Rochester advanced into the room, noiselessly closing the door after her, and then came and stood beside the man, whose wife she coveted to be, but who lay very near death at that moment.