"I NEVER SAW YOU LOOK AS YOU DO TO-DAY," SAID DOCTOR KERRIGAN. YOU ARE TREMBLING, TOO! COME, GIVE UP THE WATCH TO-NIGHT. OUR PATIENT WILL SLEEP. LET SOME OTHER NURSE WATCH HIM WHILE YOU REST. "The one they call the nurse?" "Be very sure, Mrs. Harrison. This Upon the bed was extended a tall, stalwart figure, the handsome face, heavily bearded, now pallid and damp with agony, the form lying in a death-like stillness, that was worse to witness than the most violent writhings of pain. As the door opened, the closed eyelids of the sufferer were raised, and he turned his head upon the pillow, and looked at the doctor. Not a finger was lifted; only the head moved; but the pale lips parted in a smile, as he whispered: "How fortunate I was to be thrown near here, Guy!" Half an hour before, in full vigor, he had nodded gayly to the doctor as he rode past the hospital upon his spirited horse. A few minutes later, the sudden firing of a sportsman's gun had startled the animal, who had plunged forward, and leaped with his rider down the sides of an open stone quarry. The laborers had lifted the horse from the body it was crushing, and had carried the insensible figure to the hospital, where the doctor was wondering if his friend would stop to see him as he rode homeward. Only that little half hour, and the vigorous, manly rider now lay powerless upon the bed, awaiting a difficult, dangerou "You can depend upon Mrs. Colton, sir. She never breaks operation, that was his only hope for life. down." "Send her to No. 27, then, in about five minutes." Mrs. Harrison went in search of the nurse, inwardly wondering what made Doctor Kerrigan so very particular about this especial case, when difficult and dangerous operations were such common events in the hospital. Doctor Kerrigan, selecting a case of instruments, lint, bandages, and vials, crossed a long corridor, and softly opened the door of No. 27. It was a large, airy room, cool, and pleasant on this hot July day, the windows opening upon the hospital grounds, and the furniture handsome and convenient-one of the rooms reserved for paying patients. VOL. XXXI., No. 1-2 Doctor Kerrigan put his hand upon the damp, cold brow of his friend, as he answered: "I am glad you were so near, since this was to happen, Egbert." "How soon will the surgeon come, Guy?" "In a few moments. Patience; we shall soon patch you up." He tried to speak the last words lightly, but his lip quivered. in spite of all his efforts, for this man, whose life might depend upon his coolness and skill, was dear to him as an only brother. "This operation is my only chance, Guy?" said the injured man, presently. "The only hope." "I do not suffer much now.' "Better if you did!" As she entered the office, the doctor moved a large chair And again the doctor's lip twitched, as he thought of the ter- toward her, saying, as he did so : "Rest for a few moments, nurse, while I mix you a stimulant. "I trust all to you," the patient said, presently. "I have You will never be able to watch to-night without it." made my will, Guy." rible suffering to come. "Hush, old friend. God grant it may be years before it is opened." The doctor ceased speaking, for the door opened softly, and a tall old gentleman, the distinguished surgeon of K-County, entered the room, followed by a slight woman in deep mourning. The surgeon, after speaking to the patient, looked at the table spread by Doctor Kerrigan, and said: "Ether?" "Heart disease," was the brief response; and turning to the nurse, Doctor Kerrigan gave her rapid but clear instructions. She looked little fitted to carry them out, as she listened, she was so very slight, so deadly pale, and her little hands seemed so frail and white; but her large, dark eyes were steady, and her lips, firmly closed, threatenel no fainting-fits or hysterics. She listened respectfully, then took the place assigned to her at the patient's head, her back to the two doctors. It was well for her position as model nurse, that her face was not turned to the heads of the hospital for the next few moments. Paler she could not be, but as her eyes fell upon the face upon the pillow, a startled look crossed them, the firm lips parted in a quick, gasping breath, and the little hands were convulsively clinched. The doctor's voice, "Now, Mrs. Colton," roused her, and her composure was perfect, as she prepared to administer a stimulant, watch the pulse, and otherwise assist the patient as she had been directed. Well for her that only the torture-drawn face was for her eyes. Well for her that she was not required to watch the gleaming steel that was so "cruel only to be kind." Every moan of exquisite agony found its echo in her heart, as she wiped the damp dew of pain from the white forehead, and dropped the stimulant upon the writhing lips. The hour spent as the sun sank upon that July day will never fade from the memory of Guy Kerrigan, crushing his own mental pain to offer skillful assistance to the operating surgeon; it will never be forgotten by Egbert Staunton, wakened from the death-threatening torpor, to agonies words fail to describe or imagination to portray, but more deeply branded than in either mind will it rest for life upon the heart of Lois Colton, bravely fighting down every pang and word of sympathy to give ready obedience to the surgeon, and womanly comfort to the sufferer. She had borne bodily and mental torture for years, but in that one hour was crowded a life of agony. The operation itself was of short duration, but it seemed as if years had passed to these three, as the unsightly bandages, basins, and instruments were removed, and the nurse received her final instructions. “I will see you again in an hour," Doctor Kerrigan said, pressing his frien l's han 1, "and I leave you in the best of care." Punctually he returned, an 1 the nurse met him at the door. "He is sleeping quietly," she said, in a low, sweet voice, that could never irritate as whispered words will. "And you?" the doctor said, looking into her face. "You are not going to faint now, after bearing up so bravely?"" "I never faint," was the reply. "The blessing of unconsciousness has never been granted to me." "I am tired," she sighed. "You are taxing your strength too heavily." "Perhaps so." "I never saw you look as you do to-day. You are trembling, too! Come, give up the watch to-night. Our patient will sleep. Let some other nurse watch him while you rest."' "But he may die!" she said; and in her voice was a wail of pain. "Well?" he said, wonderingly. "Die!"-her self-control was gone, utterly-"Egbert die, and I not beside him!'' "You know him? You know Egbert Staunton?" Doctor Kerrigan asked. "Do not betray me!" she said, piteously. "How can I betray what I cannot even guess?” "I must be changed, indeed!" she said. 'Look in my face again, and see if you do not know who I am." "Have I not seen your face every day for nearly a year?" he asked. “Surely I never saw it outside of this hospital." "You have seen it before," she said, sadly; "have seen it and loved it. Eight years ago, you held my hand in yours, and said to me: "May God ever bless you, Lois, though Egbert's happiness is my pain." "Great Heaven!' the doctor cried, then. "Lois Cameron ! It is impossible!" "Keep my secret," she pleaded again, "and let me watch and nurse him!"' "But how came you here?" "Not now, kind friend," she pleaded. "I cannot tell you now.” "True. You need all your composure." "Let me return now to my post." She was standing before him as she spoke, her pale face quivering, her hands clasped tightly together, and a world of pleading in her great dark eyes, raised to meet his own. He had believed hard and bitter things of her for many long years— had loved her, had put friendship in love's place for Egbert's sake, and, again, for the same loyal friendship, had given this woman hatred and contempt. Yet, as he looked now upon her pleading, upturned face, he could find no harsh word in his heart. "Drink this," he said, gently, "and tell me only what you wish. I will faithfully keep your secret, if secret it must be." "You are very kind," she said, "believing what you do of me. I will tell you all soon, but, now, let me only say I was never false to Egbert." She left the office as she spoke, and with quick, light steps, regained the room where her patient still lay, wrapt in profound sleep, the death-like slumber of powerful narcotic. The room was dimly lighted, the gas being carefully shaded, and there was a profound stillness, the door being constructed to shut out all sound in the corridor. In the stillness and twilight, the woman looked ghostly as she moved noiselessly about, arranging the room for the nightwatch. Her pallor was so set and deep as to be noticeable at all times, and under her thin muslin cap her hair was folded away in smooth hands, white as snow. Her features, that in health might have been delicate and refined, were pinched and "But you need rest, now," he said, kindly. "We tax you wasted, and her thin lips were almost colorless. She was attentoo heavily." uated till her naturally slender figure was like a shadow. The "Let me watch to-night," she pleaded. "Will he live, effect of her strange, wan face was heightened by her heavy, Doctor Kerrigan?” clinging dress of deepest mourning. "Good nursing will do a great deal," was the evasive answer. "He shall have it." "If you mean to nurse him," was the reply, "you must take some care of yourself. He will sleep now for several hours. Come to the office, and I will give you a stimulant." He turned and walked down the long corridor as he spoke, and the nurse, after silently closing the door of No. 27, followed him, her soft, clinging garments and gentle footstep making no rustle or sound as she moved. As she moved softly about the sick-room, Doctor Guy Kerrigan sat in a sort of stunned amazement in his office, trying to reconcile her parting words with his memories of eight years before. He recalled his first meeting with Egbert, when they were put into the same room at a large boarding-school, forlorn, homesick boys of ten years old. He thought of the long friendship that knew no break, until it burst upon them both that upon one fair face each had rested his hope of happy love. was no quarrel then. Egbert Staunton hal won the answering There love, and Guy, bidding him farewell, had gone to Europe to try to bury his heartache, and forget the woman whose love his friend had won. A year later, Egbert joined him in Paris. "Never speak to me again," he said, "of the fair false face that laughed at your love and mine. Upon our wedding-day, when I was hastening to her side, Lois Cameron eloped." "With whom?'' "I never knew. She wrote me a brief note, bidding me farewell, as she found her heart was another's, and spared us both the misery of marriage without perfect mutual love. Let her name be forgotten, Guy, if you love me." Colton to the bedside of his friend. The most careful and tender nursing was required, and a watchfulness that was unceasing. One hour of neglect, or one awkward movement, might have dangerous, if not fatal, results. Every hour that the nurse was spending in absolutely necessary repose, the doctor himself spent at the bedside. But the pale woman seemed to have nerves of iron, and an energy that was little less than miraculous in her slight frame. Nights of sleeplessness seemed overcome by an hour or two of rest during the day, and not a direction was forgotten, not a dose omitted, not a moment wasted. It was the second week after the accident, and Egbert Staun That was all he knew. The name was buried in silence, and ton was pronounced out of danger, yet requiring, still, months the fair face stamped false in each heart. Guy Kerrigan thought of the fresh, bright beauty he had worshiped, the clustering curls of rich brown hair, the soft, creamy complexion, and exquisitely tinted color on the round, smooth cheeks, the dancing brown eyes, and the graceful figure. He recalled the carefully chosen dresses of the young beauty, whose wealth permitted the exercise of every capricious tastethe varied jewels, the costly silks and laces. He remembered Egbert's story, and then he realized the white, still face, the mourning dress, the evident poverty of the woman who had said to him, "I never was false to Egbert." Not false to leave him upon the very wedding-day? And, now, was she not Mrs. Colton? The doctor was still musing on all this, when the surgeon who had performed the operation in the afternoon, the visiting surgeon of the hospital, and the operator in all critical cases, came in. After making inquiry about several cases, he pai! a short visit to such patients as required it, and again returne 1 to the office. Doctor Kerrigan, during his absence, recalled the fact that Mrs. Colton had been installed by the visiting surgeon, and determined to see if his knowledge of the pale-faced nurse would assist him in clearing up his speculations. "Mrs. Colton?" said the surgeon, in answer to his question. "Yes! yes! She is the widow of a patient of mine! Odd case. He was known as a man of intellect and education, yet, at the time I was called in, he was in the lowest depths of drunken degradation. I tended him for six months, after a fall. He was fatally injurel at the first, but it was a lingering caseintense suffering! His wife struck me from the first as a woman eminently fitted for nursing. She was gentle, careful, and attentive, yet she seemed to have no feeling whatever. She was just as cool and collected when he was writhing in agony, or raving in delirium, as you saw her to-day. She never seemed afraid of his violence, or moved by his suffering, yet she was faithful to every direction, and certainly prolonged his life by her patient, tender nursing. When he died, she told me she was absolutely penniless, and asked me to assist her in procuring employment. I at once offered her her present position, and have never had occasion to regret it. She looks like a galvanized corpse, I admit, but she is the best nurse I ever saw. Most female nurses, if they have no feeling, are indifferent and careless, if they are not positively neglectful or cruel; if they are tender and sympathetic, their feeling is sometimes dreadfully inconvenient." "I thought you liked female nurses." "So I do! Men are out of place nursing. Still, perfect nurses are difficult to find. Mrs. Colton is a perfect nurse." "Colton is her real name?'' "Certainly. Her husband was a leading lawyer here some fifteen years ago. I had not heard of him for years, when I was called in, as I have told you." There was certainly no light thrown upon the mystery Guy Kerrigan wished to solve, by this recital. The three stories would not fit well together, work them as he would. Lois had left her home on her wedding-day, Egbert said, to elope with a favored rival; the doctor testified to her having had a husband, to whom she clung when he was poor and degraded, yet Lois herself said she was never false to Egbert. As the days wore away that were to lead Egbert Staunton to death or recovery, Doctor Kerrigan congratulated himself daily upon the chance or the Providence that hal brought Lois of rest and nursing. So far satisfactory, yet, as the surgeon spoke the words, Guy Kerrigan and Lois watched his lips, as if more were to be said. If so, it was unspoken then, for he left the room after this encouragement for the patient. "Guy, old fellow!" Egbert said, looking in his face, and speaking in a low, faint voice, "that is not all? I will live, but how? Crippled for life?" The doctor's lip quivered. Glad to escape for a moment, Guy Kerrigan lifted the slender figure of the unconscious nurse in his strong arms, and carried her to the office. The surgeon was there. "Mrs. Colton!" he exclaimed. "I thought she never fainted!" "This is no mere fainting-fit," Doctor Kerrigan said, gravely; and he was right. Mrs. Harrison was called. Lois was conveyed to her own room, and placed in bed, and yet there was no sign of returning life in the pale face, only the most feeble fluttering of her heart, to prove she was not dead. But the weary life was not to end here. A long and dangerous insensibility was succeeded by hours of stupor, and days of burning fever. The model nurse lay between life and death, and surgeon and matron reproached themselves for having overtaxed the willing hands and the patient skill. Egbert Staunton missed the sweet, low voice, the tender touch, the unwearied devotion of his first weeks of suffering, and was constant in his inquiries. Upon the day when Guy Kerrigan told him Mrs. Colton was out of danger, he sent her, by this willing messenger, a basket of choice flowers. Upon the wan, wasted face there came a flush of color as Doctor Kerrigan delivered flowers and message. "He does not guess who I am?" she said. "No; I have kept your secret." "And now, kind friend," she said, "will you hear my story, and take a message to Egbert?'' "Gladly," he answered. "You Lever heard of my husband, Lewis Colton?”’ "Never." "He was my cousin. The money that was left me after my own parents died, was left by my uncle, and my cousin, Lewis, considering his claim the same as my own, deeply resented the legacy. I never liked him, and when he proposed to marry me. and so share my fortune, I refused him. This was ten years ago, when I was but eighteen, before I had ever seen Egbert Staunton. You knew of that acquaintance, for you were even then his warm friend. I met him and loved him. We were to be married. On the morning of our wedding-day, my aunt left me for a short time to It make some preparations for the evening ceremony, and during her absence I was summoned to the drawing-room, by a messenger, who said he had a note from Egbert. was written from a station on the road, between our country seat and New York, saying he had been injured by an accident, was dying, and implored me to come to say farewell. The handwriting was strange, but he said he was dictating to a physician. The messenger, a country boy, said the note was given him by the conductor, as the train passed our station. "There was a return train in half an hour! I hastily wrote a line to my aunt, SCENES IN GERMANY.-LAGER-BEER GARDEN.-PAGE 33. "This was the hideous fact that met me after a deep sleep had fully restored my reason. Egbert believed me false! Lewis Colton was my husband! 66 "Guy, by the love you once gave me, pity me now!" Heaven is my witness, I pity you," was the reply. "What my life was," she continued, "let my changed face, my blanched hair, tell you. I hated my husband. He married me to possess my fortune. We traveled in Europe for six years, wasting my uncle's legacy in gambling, drinking-I know not what vices. I remained alone most of the time, praying for death, seeing my husband sinking deeper and deeper in vice, with no power to save him. I did not love him, yet, for mere humanity, I tried to check this downward career, only to be taunted with the sneer that it was the money, not the man, that I was anxious to save. "I cannot tell if it was remorse, or if, as he sometimes said, it was my cold indiffer dressed myself, and hurried to the station. When I reached the | ence, that drove my husband to strong drink, but that final designated point, a carriage was waiting for me, and a gentle- degradation came at last. We returned home, not to business man, who said he was the physician, informed me that Egbert or to the comforts of home life, but to move from one tenewas at a farm-house a mile distant. I did not suspect a plot, ment house to another, sinking lower and lower, wasting the and entered the carriage. little that was left of the money that was my curse, till we were absolutely in want of the necessaries of life. "It was in one of his drunken revels that my husband fell "We were driving rapidly, when the physician tore off his wig and beard, revealing the face of my cousin Lewis, at the same time pressing upon my face a handkerchief drenched with chloroform. "When I recovered my senses I was lying in the stateroom of a steamer, bound for Liverpool, and already in motion, carrying me far away from friends, home and country. Upon my weddingday, with Egbert's love waiting for me, I was carried off, as I tell you. As I moved to rise, I saw that my cousin Lewis was standing beside me, looking into my face. Before I could collect my bewildered senses, he told me where I was, and informed me that Egbert had already received a note, purporting to come from me, informing him of my elopement with a man I loved. "I was weak, bewildered by the chloroform, and scarcely conscious of my own movements. Before I fairly understood my own words, a clergyman on board, believing us a runaway couple, had performed the ceremony that made me Lewis Colton's wife. SCENES IN ERMANY. ON THE RHINE.-PAGE 33. down the stone steps of a saloon, and was fatally injured. The headlong career to ruin was changed to a bed of horrible suffering, without one hour of penitence. I nursed him for months, when my kindest word from his lips was a curse, my tenderest caress from his hand was a blow. He died raving in delirium, and I was free. "Free! and what you see me-a woman not thirty, looking sixty, wasted, altered beyond any recognition, poor and alone. The surgeon who had tended my husband gave me a place here to earn my bread, not knowing what made me a mere machine for nursing! Will you tell Egbert all, Guy? Will you tell him if he will let me pass the rest of my blighted life beside him, he shall never need to use hands nor feet while I have mine. I will give him such devotion as I never imagined existed in our days of betrothal. Guy, will you bring me his forgiveness, if no more?" "He has nothing to for |