IT may be thought that I am about to establish a bad precedent by telling tales out of school. One can understand that a great deal of harm may be done were a doctor or nurse to turn over stories or incidents occurring during professional attendance upon patients. The cases that I am about to relate are of old standing, and I shall take care to repeat nothing that will wound the feelings of the most susceptible. All my cases were not of the sensational order, but I have selected a few that are of outstanding interest. They will prove, I think, that the experience of a private nurse is varied and sometimes exciting.

      I was attached to a Glasgow nursing agency, and there were ten of us on the staff, Most of us had already had a good grounding in general hospitals or in the treatment of fevers. We took our turns at cases, and seldom were any of us idle for long periods at a stretch.

      "You are wanted in Aberdeen, Nurse Rees," said Miss Morton, our Matron, popping her head into our comfortable sitting-room one night in December of the sixties. "I can give you no particulars," she proceeded. "The telegram is from Dr Chandler, and he says some one will expect you at Aberdeen in the small hours of the morning, so you had better pack up at once. There is a train from Buchanan Street about ten."

      I had ample time to make my preparations, and when I was comfortably seated in the corner of a third class carriage I was well enveloped in warm wraps. Needless to say, I was heartily glad when I alighted on the platform of Aberdeen Station. There were few passengers, and when I looked about there appeared to be no one in search of me. I accordingly made my way to the guard's van to annex my saratoga. Suddenly I was tapped on the shoulder, and on turning round I saw a tall, elderly-looking gentleman, attired in a long ulster and tweed cap.

      "Are you the nurse?" he asked, quietly.

      I told him my name, and he at once directed the porter to take my trunk to a covered-in conveyance that awaited us at the station entrance.

      "I trust it is nothing serious, Mr ——?"

      "Goodison is my name, nurse," he said, noticing my hesitation. "It is my wife who is ill. She has been an invalid for a very long time now, and the doctors seem to be puzzled over her. I am an old navy doctor, though I'm off the irons now and don't reckon myself an authority."

      When we drove up to the entrance of what appeared a large mansion-house enclosed in its own grounds, my companion assisted me to alight and conducted me to a cosy little den where a temptingly-spread table had been prepared for me.

      "When you have had something to eat," he said, "I shall take you up to see your patient."

      I told him I would prefer to see my patient first, but he insisted that I must have food, so I gave way.

      It was still dark and the lights were turned low. The house was as silent as the tomb when he walked upstairs to the sick room.

      "Come this way, nurse," said Dr Goodison, when we reached a wide landing.

      As he spoke he silently opened a door and we entered a large, dimly-lit bedroom. A shaded lamp shed a faint glow upon a still face lying on the white pillow of the bed that stood at the far end of the room. Screens were placed so that the possibility of draught from the opened doorway was remote. At one side of the bed stood a little table covered with a white cloth and decked with medicine bottles, measure glasses, and odds and ends. There was no attempt at decoration, and every piece of furniture was of the plainest kind.

      "Are you asleep, May dear?" asked the doctor, bending down and stroking his wife's forehead gently. "The nurse has come to see you."

      The invalid turned her head slowly, and looked up at me for a moment.

      "We must have you better soon, Mrs Goodison," I said by way of an encouraging introduction.

      She shut her eyes, however, and shook her head from side to side. I took a mental note of all that was in the room, and felt satisfied that I could at least make things look a little more tidy and less stiff. While my mind was thinking out plans of action I was reminded by Dr Goodison that, as the visiting doctor would call about ten, I had better lie down and have a rest for an hour or two, so that I might begin my spell of nursing duty in a fresh state of mind and body.

      I retired with the assurance that he would watch by his wife, and would call me when I was required.

      When one is tired sleep covers a long space in what appears a very short time. It was, therefore, as if I had but lain down a few minutes when Dr Goodison's knock and call informed me that the doctor had arrived.

      It did not take long to smooth my ruffled hair and to assume my nursing garb.

      Dr Chandler was a dapper little man, dressed with great neatness, and his face said that he enjoyed his meals right well. He greeted me in a very friendly way, and proceeded to explain the peculiar features of Mrs Goodison's case. Her illness dated from the time when news arrived of her son's death, and all the doctor could say was that her illness was due to extreme nervous prostration.

      "Yet," said the little man, assuming a serious tone, "there is the peculiar feature of the constant fever. Perhaps you might take the temperature every four hours, and see that she has nourishment hourly."

      A fortnight went and there was no change in the patient's condition. She seemed utterly spent, and made no endeavour to rouse herself. Her husband took his turn at nursing, and no one could have been more anxious than he to hurry on the recovery of the unsatisfactory invalid.

      One morning about three when only the flickering of the fire disturbed the deathly silence I was suddenly roused from my knitting. The bedclothes rustled, and, looking up, I was amazed to see my patient attempting to get out of bed. Her eyes were wide open, but she did not know me when I hurried to her side and quietly but firmly laid her head down on the pillow again.

      Dr Chandler hummed and hawed when I told him what had occurred.

      "Somnambulism is a new feature, I must say," he said, twirling his moustache for inspiration. "Let me see, nurse; let her rise when she threatens to repeat the performance. You may learn something; but follow her closely, for she cannot have much strength left to enable her to go far."

      I had not long to wait, for that very night she rose with the greatest deliberation, and, quietly opening the door, walked with wonderful precision along the corridor until she came opposite the library. Here she hesitated for a moment, then, pushing aside the heavy curtains, she entered and walked up to one of the book-shelves. Twice she moved her arm in the direction of a particular book, but each time she hesitated. Her lips kept moving, but no audible words came. Then, with equal suddenness, she turned and walked out of the room, and slipping into bed covered herself up, as if the whole affair had been an everyday occurrence.

      It will be readily understood that for the ensuing hours my state of mind was one of complete unrest and agitation. I preserved my secret from the husband, but took the first opportunity to inform Dr Chandler concerning what had taken place.

      My information was of little value, however, and I was requested to continue my close vigilance in view of further developments. Another fortnight went past, and Mrs Goodison's extreme weakness showed that she was going to slip through our fingers, and that despite the aid sought from consultants all the way from Glasgow and Edinburgh. And to make matters worse the husband looked as if he were going to be my next patient, for he ate little, seldom seemed to rest, and his hollow eyes were showing dark rings round them, I tried hard to coax Mrs Goodison into conversation, but her replies were of the most curt nature. She even went the length of wishing herself dead, and with this determination in her mind I realised how hopeless my struggle with her was.

      "Have you ever any aches or pains?" I asked her one evening after I had come on duty.

      "No, none. I wish you would cease to worry about me, nurse. I feel cold, that is all; I feel as if I could never be properly warmed."

      This feeling of cold was not real, for only ten minutes before I had taken her temperature, which showed she was in a high state of fever.

      "We are very anxious to see you better, Mrs Goodison. Is there nothing you would like us to do for yon? You have only to ask us and we will help you in every way. Are you tired?"

      She looked at me, and, smiling cynically, said — "I am only tired of life, nurse."

      "Oh, nonsense. It is wrong to talk in that way, my dear. The doctor says you ought to pick up soon."

      The smile on her face broadened, and I was astonished at her callousness.

      "There is only one doctor who can save me, nurse, and he is a Clever Physician."

      "Why do you speak in that way, Mrs Goodison! Do you know what is wrong with you? Are you concealing anything that we ought to know?"

      "No one shall ever know what is wrong with me," she answered, firmly, with shut eyes and fists clenched on the coverlet.

      "You are acting wrongly, Mrs Goodison, very wrongly. You ought to help us. I will bring you some warm soup."

      I was provoked at her I must confess, and she was evidently ill-pleased at me, because for the rest of the night her lips were sealed.

      When the doctor came next day I took leave to suggest that there might be some mesmeric influence at work.

      "Yes, nurse, I have thought of that, too," said Dr Chandler, good-naturedly accepting my remark. "But I fear that theory will not account for the peculiar features in the case. Indeed I may tell you that I have even tried to think of the possibility of slow poisoning. But there is not, as far as I know, indeed as far as present day knowledge goes, a drug that can produce these symptoms as shown by our patient. No, I fear we must make the best of matters, and persevere with nourishment, as well as close observation."

      This was decidedly unsatisfactory, but I could do no more than perform my duty, and this I set myself zealously to carry out.

      It was exactly three in the morning when Mrs Goodison was seized with sudden faintness. I had never seen her so low, and she refused to respond to heat and stimulation. As her husband's room was not far off, I rushed out to call him. But as I passed the library door I saw him seated at his reading table, his head resting on his hand, as if he were intent upon a book.

      "Come quickly, doctor, please?" I gasped, and was about to turn away. He had been asleep, and, rubbing his eyes, he looked at me in a dazed fashion. I repeated my message, and he at once started to his feet. He was at the bedside as soon as I.

      There was not a particle of colour in his wife's face, He had seized her hand, and was peering anxiously down at her.

      "I fear she is gone, nurse," he said, hoarsely, never taking his gaze off her.

      Her lower jaw gently dropped as he spoke, and I knew that it was all over. It was a sudden termination to a peculiarly sad case.

      He fell upon his knees at the bedside, and buried his face in his hands, as if he were in prayer. Suddenly he rose, and, laying a hand on my shoulder, said in most decided tones —

      "I am going to follow her soon, nurse."

      Without another word he left me alone with his dead wife in the eerie room.

      I am not nervous, never felt nervous, but that night tried me severely. The servants gathered round the bedside of their dead mistress, and their tears added to the mournfulness of the surroundings.

      Suddenly, with awful suddenness, a shot rang out in the corridor, and the truth flashed through my mind that Dr Goodison had killed himself.

      None of the servants dared move a step, for they stood petrified with alarm. I accordingly hurried along the passage, and in the reading-room beheld a sight that nearly made my heart stand still. Dr Goodison lay stretched out on the floor at full length, his face bathed in a pool of blood, and a revolver in his clenched right hand.

      At once I sent for Dr Chandler, and when he came he knew not what to say. He carefully examined the ballet wound in the right temple, and as he was about to rise he picked up a piece of neatly-folded paper, upon which was some writing. He opened it out and whistled softly as he read over what had been written by the suicide.

      "Listen to this, nurse," he said, in a voice a little above a whisper:— "I am a murderer without the intention of being one. I have experimented too long with the poison described by Garnier. I believe that on page 233 his description is erroneous. He must mean the alkaloid and not the extract. I have used the alkaloid as a heart tonic. God save my sinful soul."

      "Stupid fool," said Dr Chandler, crumpling up the paper. "His wife seems to have known something of this. I wonder why she refused to tell us. It is really most extraordinary."

      I waited until the funeral was over, and when I returned to Glasgow the Matron and my fellow-nurses told me that I looked ten years older. They were not surprised when they heard the story of my anxious nights spent in Aberdeen.

---

NEXT WEEK
A MYSTERIOUS OPERATION.
A Paisley Story.

IN my early days as a nurse Antitoxin and the different sera for treating diseases were unknown. Now, however, diphtheria is not viewed with the same alarm that used to take possession of the mind when a person was laid down with the dread malady. Indeed the injection under the skin of a big dose of Antitoxin, provided it be administered at an early stage of the disease, will often cure diphtheria.

      When I was on active service, if I may use the term, it may be well imagined I did not look forward with a cheerful spirit to the case of diphtheria that demanded my attention in Paisley.

      The house in which the patient lay was on the road leading to Renfrew, and therefore on the outskirts of the town. Mr and Mrs Frampton, the little girl's parents, were prostrate with grief, for the patient was their only child. The little girl's name was Lily, and she was well named, for a more beautiful, curly-headed little body I had never seen.

      "And how is Lily to-night?" I said, when I entered the steam-laden sick-room and patted the little one's flushed cheek.

      She smiled at me with her limpid, blue eyes, and whispered an answer that I could not make out. Soon after my arrival the doctor appeared, and I must confess I was not enamoured with either his manner or appearance. He fussed and flurried about the bad drains, and paid little or no attention to his tender, little patient.

      "Is there anything you wish me to do, doctor?" I asked, cutting short his dissertation upon traps, drains, and smoke-tests.

      "Oh, yes, yes," he said, suddenly realising that he had not even examined Lily's throat. "We had better continue the steaming. The fact is, I think the case hopeless, and have thought so from the beginning," he added, in an undertone.

      I was on the point of telling him that was no reason why he should not put forth every effort to save the life of the dear little mite, but a nurse, of all people, has to bridle her tongue.

      When the doctor left I was subjected to a most searching cross-examination at the hands of the father. He asked me what I thought of Lily, whether she had any chance of pulling through, and whether the operation of tracheotomy (opening into the windpipe) would be of any avail. I declined to commit myself in any way, though I often regretted that I had not indicated at any rate in which direction my thoughts lay. Lily grew rapidly worse. The doctor appeared to lack confidence in himself, and he certainly was the last man to inspire anxious parents with faith in his skill. Even a few hours before Lily's death the doctor told the parents that he thought Lily would yet pull through, and it was only at this stage that I dared permit myself to inform the parents that their little comfort and joy would soon be in a happier world among the angels. Poor little soul, she suffered bravely and well. Her little pink cheeked dolly, which she knew as Daisy, nestled in her arms, and when Lily, at three in the morning, finally sank from sheer exhaustion, Daisy was still in the arms that had fondled and loved her so often.

      I was utterly spent with exhaustion and grief, for Mr and Mrs Frampton suffered terrible anguish. As my work was done, I prepared to take my departure for Glasgow on the day following. A cab was awaiting me when a messenger came to the door anxiously desiring to see me.

      "Are you the nurse?" a young gentleman asked, with trembling lips and startled eyes. "My sister is down with diphtheria the doctor says. Do try and come, nurse," he added, searching my face for a favourable answer.

      He offered to wire to Glasgow for Miss Morton's permission. This soon arrived, and I transferred my belongings to a villa not a hundred yards distant.

      This time my patient was a young lady. She was in no distress, but inclined rather to laugh at the anxiety of her parents and brother. I shall not make my story tedious by detailing the treatment that was adopted, but it will suffice that the doctor in attendance was of a different stamp to the other I had met.

      "I think Miss Lyle's strength will pull her through," he said, when he paid his evening visit; "but at the first suggestion of difficult breathing I intend to resort to tracheotomy."

      "Are the parents agreeable?" I asked.

      "Oh, dear, yes. They are only too anxious about their young daughter. You must understand she was to be married to Dr Shorter next month. So you can understand we will have his support in whatever direction treatment requires us to go."

      When the doctor departed he left the satisfactory feeling behind him that he, at any rate, was a man in whom one could repose every confidence, and that goes a very long way in the case of serious illness.

      "Has any one been calling this afternoon, nurse?" Miss Lyle asked when I returned to the sick-room. "They are very cruel; they won't let any one see me. I suppose you know that I was about to be married to Dr Shorter very soon? Do you know him? Isn't he very nice?"

      It so happened that I could speak from personal experience, and, while I agreed about his excellent qualities, I urged Miss Lyle to keep as quiet as possible, for her progress depended to a great extent upon herself.

      I had just ended my admonition when a knock came to the door, and a voice asked —

      "May I come in? Well, Polly, what is this you are doing? I am sorry to hear about your throat, dear girl; but you must really be good and keep still."

      It was her lover who had come in, and he must have heard my advice to Miss Lyle to keep quiet. He advanced to her bedside and took her hand in his. I was about to slip out of the room, when he noticed me, and called me back.

      "Don't go, nurse; I am due at Crosshill in an hour, and I have only three minutes to wait. Now, dearest, do try and act up to orders. I'll be down to see you to-night again. I hope you will soon be all right."

      Presently he was off, and my patient consoled herself by bursting into a flood of tears, for his brief visit had disappointed her.

      In the course of the next twelve hours there was a change for the worse in Miss Lyle's condition. The voice was now a hoarse whisper, and her breathing began to show signs of obstruction in the windpipe.

      "I fear we cannot let another night pass without the operation," said the doctor early next morning when he saw how matters stood. "Has Miss Lyle any idea of an operation?"

      "Oh, yes, she has spoken about it, and hopes if anything is to be done it will be by Dr Shorter."

      "That is where my difficulty lies, for Dr Shorter says he could not by any possible chance bring himself to operate upon her. He is coming down this afternoon, and if he refuses immediate steps must be taken to procure another surgeon."

      The intervening hours seemed interminably long, for Miss Lyle's breathing was certainly becoming worse.

      At last, just as it was growing dark, a brougham drove up and stopped at the house. In a few moments after the doctor entered the room and whispered that Dr Shorter was down below, and would perform the necessary operation. I had already prepared a table, on to which we lifted the patient. All the instruments were immediately got ready, and Miss Lyle was soon inhaling the chloroform from a folded towel.

      "Now she is over, nurse," said the doctor, excitedly. "Watch her for a few seconds and I will fetch Dr Shorter."

      In a few minutes the doctor returned with Dr Shorter at his heels. I glanced up to give him a friendly smile, but his look almost alarmed me. His eyes were staring like those of a person in a trance, and he walked up to the side of the patient without even looking to right or left.

      I never saw the operation so deftly performed, and I never was present at so silent an ordeal. Not one of us spoke a word. Everything went like clockwork, and when the burst of air rushed through the opening made in the windpipe immediate relief showed itself in Miss Lyle's breathing. With equal speed the silver tube was inserted and fixed in its place, and we soon had the still insensible patient back in bed surrounded by hot-water bottles.

      When I had adjusted the pillows and coverings about the patient I turned round, to discover that I was alone in the room.

      I waited for an hour, at the end of which time a new nurse came to relieve me. I did not say anything about the strange disappearance of the two medical men, but contented myself by setting everything in order again. I was glad to lie down, for the tension of the past two days had been very acute, and nervous tension is more fatiguing than manual labour.

      "I have another patient on my hands now," said the doctor two days afterwards. "Poor Shorter is on his back."

      "Not serious, I hope?" I asked, anxiously, for not an hour passed but I wished the lover would come to cheer up his sweetheart. She was making excellent progress, and I could only console her by saying that Dr Shorter was staying away in order to avoid any excitement.

      At the end of a week the silver tube was taken out, and Miss Lyle again heard her own voice.

      Dr Shorter had recovered, and appeared in the sick-room.

      "Well, Polly dear, I am delighted with your recovery. You are not out of the wood yet, so you must be careful and obey your doctor."

      "Then I am out of your hands now, I suppose," she answered, faintly, her white hand stealing into his. "Now that your part is over, I daresay you feel relieved?"

      "My dear girl, I am delighted to think you managed so well without dragging me into the business. I tell you I wouldn't have operated on you for a ransom of a fee."

      A look of intense surprise came over Miss Lyle's face, and she stared at her lover intently for a few moments.

      "But, my dear boy, you had to give in in the long run. There was no other whom I would have allowed to cut my throat," said Miss Lyle, presently.

      "Give in, not I. I held out to the very last."

      Matters were becoming complicated, and I knew not what the battle of cross-purposes meant. Luckily the family attendant appeared radiant with smiles.

      "Ah, you're here, Shorter? I wondered where on earth you had gone."

      "Yes, I came to compliment you and your patient," said Dr Shorter.

      "But the funny part of it is that Dr Shorter won't admit that he had to submit to my superior will," added Miss Lyle, smilingly. "He says he refused to perform the operation, and that he held out to the last. I should like to know how you eventually made him give in. I know he has a strong will, and would like to learn the recipe for overcoming it."

      "Well, then, now that the cat has been let out of the bag, I may as well tell you my secret," said the doctor in attendance. "I knew the difficulty with Dr Shorter, and realised that he would stand out against operating upon you. So I mesmerised him ——"

      "What!" exclaimed Dr Shorter, turning in surprise upon the speaker.

      "Yes, Shorter, I hypnotised you, and it was you and no other who performed the delicate operation, and nurse will tell you that never was it so deftly performed."

      I bowed my assent, and tried to conceal my amazement, though Dr Shorter's strange look when he entered the sick-room on that eventful evening was now fully explained to me.

      It would be useless to detail the further particulars of the interview, but Dr Shorter was for long a different man, so deep an impression had the episode left upon his mind.

      Miss Lyle is now the wife of Dr Shorter, and when I see her she often delights to revert to the trying times that she passed through as my diphtheria patient.

---

NEXT WEEK —
HOW I MISSED A FORTUNE.
An Edinburgh Story.

IT was well on in winter when I went to nurse Mr Harvey in one of the suburbs of Edinburgh. He was suffering from heart disease of a serious form, and Dr S——, the medical attendant, warned me to be very careful in the management of the case, as the invalid was quick-tempered and required much humouring. For several years Mr Harvey had entirely depended upon his young housekeeper, Miss Wintle, but when his condition grew worse I was called in.

      Miss Wintle was a very frank little creature, and did all she could to make my stay at the house pleasant and comfortable. That Mr Harvey was a man of means was evident from the size of the house and its elaborate furnishings. He had made his fortune as a tea planter, and, unfortunately for himself, his well-earned repose consisted in his being laid down with a severe attack of acute rheumatism. At the age of 56 a man is not able to throw off the ill effects of such a disease, the result being that the heart becomes seriously affected.

      "I suppose you find him very fidgety?" suggested Miss Wintle one day as we sat over an afternoon cup of tea.

      "No more o than others suffering from the same disease," I answered. "It is, however, a pity that he is so passionate. How long is it since his wife died?"

      "Twelve years ago, when their son was ten years old."

      "And what does the son do?" I asked, for I had never until now heard of his existence.

      "Oh," said Miss Wintle, smiling broadly, "if you want to be safe do not mention the son's name to Mr Harvey. It is like baiting a bull to do so. The last I heard of him was that he intended to enlist. But we need not pursue that subject further."

      I had not been absent for more than half an hour, but the time had been apparently too long for my patient.

      "Where have you been, nurse?" he asked, grumpily.

      When I told him he merely grunted and sulked.

      "How are you feeling now?" I asked, in order to soothe him down a bit.

      "Oh, pretty much as usual, though you women are all the same. You don't seem to care very much. Have you nursed many cases like mine?"

      "A good many now, Mr Harvey."

      "Imphm; I suppose they all died?"

      "Oh no, not all of them."

      "Well, it doesn't matter. I suppose I can't weather it very much longer."

      "You mustn't talk in that way, Mr Harvey. You are not so ill as you were."

      "What do you know about it? You have only been here a few weeks. I know I am not to get better, so that you need not bother about bolstering me up. Now, nurse, listen attentively, and do as I want you, and you will not regret it. This little creature who is my housekeeper is all very well in her way, you know; but I have my suspicions that everything is not right in the house. I have a son who has been the worry of my life. Miss Wintle and he are laying their heads together to do some mischief. What it is I know not. I have told the rascal to leave the house, and he receives an allowance, which he spends in betting and drinking. Now, keep a look-out and let me know what happens."

      "As far as I can see, Mr Harvey, everything seems to be in good order, and I am certainly made very comfortable."

      "That may all be true, but I am not at all sure. Please do as I wish."

      I promised to obey his instructions, which, however, were of a most disagreeable nature, I was secretly under the impression that Mr Harvey had exaggerated much of his complaint against Miss Wintle, for my intimate relationship with her had been for weeks of the most pleasant and harmonious kind. However, I had the story of the son to ponder over, and the fact of Miss Wintle being friendly with what appeared to be a ne'er-do-weel did not impress me too favourably, though, again, there was that tinge of bitterness in the remarks of the father that did not appeal to one in my position of neutrality as being forcible reasoning.

      When I came to peep behind the scenes I saw nothing wrong nor did Miss Wintle's conduct seem in any way suspicious.

      "I never saw any one get alone with Mr Harvey so well as you do, nurse," said Miss Wintle one day. "Does he ever speak to you of his son?"

      "If I get on well with him, Miss Wintle, it must have been very uncomfortable for you many a time. As for the son, all I can say is that Mr Harvey speaks of him in bitter terms."

      "It is too absurd altogether, nurse. Mr Harvey was brought up in the hards, and he seems to think the son ought likewise to have his nose at the grindstone."

      "But does the son really try to deserve the father's sympathy, Miss Wintle?"

      She coloured for an instant at the question, but quickly recovered her composure.

      "I think if I were Mr Harvey's son I should be tempted to go off the rails, too. Besides, I don't know that he is any worse than other young men of his age."

      "What sort of business is he in? Is he trying to do anything for himself?"

      "How can he do anything? The father allows him some money, it is true, but it barely keeps the young man in respectability. I believe, however, he tries his hand at broking or as a commission agent. Did you tell the old gentleman that his son threatened to enlist?"

      "No."

      "Then I wish you would. It might bring Mr Harvey round a bit. I think the information might melt his heart."

      I made no answer, but mentally resolved to take no share in acting as an intermediary, for it was quite plain that she was pleading for the son.

      Late that evening, after I had made my patient comfortable for the night, I wrapped a shawl round my shoulders and sat in the anteroom, the large window of which overlooked the moonlit lawn. The bright gleams of the moon showed up the trees and shrubs distinctly, and I was soon lost in dreamland as I gazed at the sparkling hoarfrost that covered the gently swaying branches.

      Suddenly my dreams were interrupted by the sound of voices. A cold shiver ran through me when I thought of burglars, and I was on the point of running along the corridor to rouse Miss Wintle. Second thoughts ruled, and, slowly rising, I peeped out behind the edge of the curtain that draped the window.

      At first I could merely hear murmurings. These grew more distinct as my ears became accustomed to the sounds. My heart nearly stood still when I clearly made out Miss Wintle's voice. She was talking to a man, and I at once concluded it must be Mr Harvey's son, My suspicion was soon verified when he raised his voice and asked —

      "Can the nurse not be got at? Is the old man hopeless?"

      "I think she has been hearing too much," said Miss Wintle. "She is too wideawake. No, you must try the other plan. It is the only thing you can do."

      "Then she has spoilt our little game instead of being a help? Ah, well, I'll go the whole hog now that I have begun. By the way, have you any money? I'm stoney. I lost a fiver yesterday again. Confound that chap Gibson, he has twice put me on to the wrong horse now."

      "I wish you would give up that horse-betting, Jim," said Miss Wintle, in tones that told me that the two were very close friends.

      "What the dickens am I to do, then?" he asked. "I can't go into an office and begin all over again. If the governor would only stump up I'd clear the country and ——"

      At this point I heard a sob, and I knew he had touched a tender spot in Miss Wintle's heart. For some time there was silence, and at last I saw the two figures go towards the gate. I waited patiently at the window, and was rewarded by seeing Miss Wintle scamper back over the lawn to re-enter the house.

      Next day I tried to detect confusion in Miss Wintle's conduct and manner, but saw nothing to arouse suspicion.

      If they gave me credit for spoiling some plot I thought I had better be on my guard for their counter-plotting.

      We had just completed breakfast when I thought I would open at long range, as the soldiers say.

      "I got such a fright last night, Miss Wintle," I remarked, quite casually, as I was folding my table-napkin.

      "Really! What happened?"

      "I heard voices at the entrance door."

      "Horrors! At what time was that?" she asked, quite unconcernedly.

      "I really could not say; but I felt sure I heard you speaking."

      "Oh, that is ridiculous. Where were you when you heard the sounds?"

      "I was sitting in the room upstairs."

      "It must have been M'Lure, the housemaid, She is engaged to the night policeman. I must tell her to be careful."

      She rose at once, and tried in that way to turn the whole affair into a joke; and it is unnecessary to say that for the next week or two I heard no more conversations underneath the window. The plotters had taken fright. But I was ever on the watch for new developments.

      Miss Wintle's behaviour suddenly changed, and she treated me with evident suspicion.

      Mr Harvey was growing worse in every way. It was seldom that he allowed me to be out of earshot, and his temper was no better than it had been at the beginning. The doctor was anxious to have his patient sufficiently bolstered up so that he might be removed to some health resort, but Mr Harvey refused to listen to the suggestion that he should be taken away.

      Late one evening Mr Harvey grew suddenly ill. I rang the bell to summon assistance, so that the doctor might be sent for, and when the maid appeared I asked her to call Miss Wintle. It was after twelve o'clock, and the servant returned immediately to tell me that Miss Wintle was not in her room, and that her bed had not been slept in that night.

      "And please, nurse, I can't go downstairs," gasped the girl. "I saw a man in the hall — I feel sure it was young Mr Harvey."

      I was in a dilemma. I must fetch the doctor at all costs, so I asked the girl to wait beside Mr Harvey.

      I must confess I trembled at the thought of having to go downstairs; but I turned my eyes neither to right nor left, and rushed out to the street. A policeman was at hand, and he kindly volunteered to execute my errand. Dr S—— lived quite close at hand, and when he arrived he shook his head.

      "Is it very serious, doctor?" asked Mr Harvey, who was sitting up and gasping for breath.

      "I fear it is, sir," said the doctor, whose fingers were compressing the patient's pulse.

      "Tell them to bring Mr Foster. I want to add a codicil to my will," said the patient, whose utterance was low and laboured. "My keys are in that drawer, nurse. Bring them, and we can have the safe opened. Doctor, will you bring up the papers; they are in the safe?" The doctor readily agreed, but warned the sufferer against exciting himself. His face was a study when he returned from the library.

      "Are you sure the papers were left in the safe, Mr Harvey?" he asked.

      The patient seemed to rouse himself for a special effort, for he raised his head and stared fixedly at the doctor for a few seconds as if too amazed to speak.

      Then suddenly Mr Harvey clutched at his own throat as if to tear away some obstruction, and next moment he fell back dead.

      When we were alone in the room and puzzling over the tragic end of our patient, I hurriedly told the story of the son to the doctor.

      "Then, I suppose that is where the will has gone?" said he. "Ah, well, it is a very sad story, but I am not going to soil my fingers with it. I regret, however, that this has happened. The chances are that you will be the loser. Mr Harvey intended to leave a large amount of his riches to you. Now, however, you may depend upon it the will has been destroyed, and you will be left out in the cold."

      "I would be sorry to be the possessor of riches that did not rightly belong to me, doctor, though I think it a pity that the money should fall into the possession of such a son."

      I could not go to bed that morning, so I sat brooding in my room.

      Suddenly the door was burst open, and Miss Wintle, as white as a sheet, burst into my presence.

      "Is it true that he is dead?" she gasped, clutching the bed pillar for support.

      "Yes, Miss Wintle; it is true, and the theft of the will from the safe killed him."

      "Theft of the will! What do you mean, nurse?"

      "I have no more to say, Miss Wintle. I go early to-morrow morning. Please leave me."

      When I lifted my eyes her back was turned to me, and she stole out of the room much more silently than when she entered.

      My story is practically finished. No will was found. The money all went to young Harvey, and he has not married Miss Wintle. He is the associate of gamblers and rogues, and Miss Wintle is a hard-working but ill-paid governess, and a much more sensible woman than when I first met her.

---

NEXT WEEK —
A CHRISTMAS COURTSHIP.
An Ayr Story.

DURING the ten years that I was attached to the agency at Glasgow I had never once spent a Christmas at the Nursing Home. Many of our grateful patients were in the habit of sending dainties to us every Christmas, so that we might enjoy a banquet among ourselves; but it was seldom that more than four or five at a time were able to share in the feast of good things.

      The Christmas of 187— is one that I shall long remember, and my present story is concerned with that period.

      There had been an epidemic of typhoid fever traced to a dairy on the outskirts of Ayr, and, among others, Mr Blank's little daughter, aged six, was a victim. She was in the first week of her illness when I was sent for, and, as children usually pass through fairly mild attacks of the fever, I had every reason to suppose that by the time she was quite well and strong I would be able to return to Glasgow about the middle of December. We seldom went out to cases until we ourselves had had some mental and bodily rest. This therefore meant that I would be in Glasgow during Christmas. "The best-laid schemes o' mice an" men gang aft agley" is a trite saying, and applicable to me.

      Molly, my patient, was a sweet little girl, full of animation and good spirits. Her large, dark eyes glowed with intelligence, and one would have been readily pardoned by the parents had their daughter been called a native of sunny Italy. She was, in fact, a young brunette, and a living image of her mother and only sister, a young lady who had seen twenty summers.

      Mr Blank had amassed a fortune in connection with the tea trade, and, like a wise man, had retired when in his prime. He was fond of sport, and had found Ayr a capital centre for the enjoyment of his favourite outdoor pastimes.

      I was to take night duty, and Miss Blank was determined, in spite of her parents' remonstrances, to look after her little sister during the daytime. Everything went well until the end of the third week, when inflammation of the right lung developed, and this gave us no end of anxiety. The doctor in attendance was a most skilful man, and Molly was very fond of him. She seldom refused to take medicine; but, if there was any difficulty, it was easily got over when the doctor put in an appearance and persuaded her to swallow the nasty dose to the accompaniment of a story about a wicked elf or some fairy with a magic wand. During the critical stage of her illness Molly's parents suffered a great deal of anxiety. I well remember one morning, when we were watching for the crisis, a particularly pathetic scene made us look for the very worst. We were all standing round about the little mite's bed. Her breathing was laboured and hurried, and accompanied by incoherent mutterings. At last a brighter moment seemed to come, and, looking up, she appeared to recognise her mother.

      ""Mother dear," she murmured, "I have been speaking to all the angels, and they want me to go to heaven with them. Will you let me go with them, mother dear?"

      "Oh yes, dearie, I shall let you go, if you want to leave me."

      "No, mother, I — l do not want to go; but you said God told the angels to take care of little girlies, and I think I would like to see heaven. I am so tired, mother dear, I would like to rest in heaven, where there will be no nasty pain. You will take care of all my dollies, won't you, mother? And tell sis that ——"

      "I am here, Molly dearest," her sister interrupted. "You must try and rest, dearie, and we shall take very good care of all your dollies."

      The effort was too much for the poor girl, and, like her mother, she buried her face in her hands and sobbed bitterly.

      "Why is mother crying, nurse?" Molly asked, turning weakly towards me. "Tell mother I mean to come back when I am an angel, and look after her, and sis, and daddy, and you."

      After this her gaze became fixed on the ceiling, and I really thought the end was coming, but did not dare to suggest it. A profuse perspiration broke out over her forehead, and by slow degrees the dimmed eyes shut, and she gradually fell into a delightfully quiet sleep. I did not go to bed until after the doctor had paid his visit, and when he came he pronounced Molly out of danger, as far as inflammation of the lung was concerned.

      After such a severe illness Molly's recovery was gradual but very slow. At the end of the first week of December she was sitting up in bed and in great glee because snow was on the ground. The robins, whom she professed to know by name, came to the window every morning and picked up the crumbs which she had requested me to put out for them. She wanted to know what robins did when they were ill, and where they went to when they died, and the tears welled up in her eyes when I told her that there was no one to take care of them. Her sorrow was soon forgotten, however, when the doctor came in with his happy face and rattled off stories about his two little boys, who had been in everlasting mischief since his previous visit.

      When Molly was able to be up she was greatly amused to see how long and thin her legs had grown, and disappointed to find that they refused to support her.

      "Mother, I will want one of your stockings," she said most pertly one day, after she had listened to the wonderful things that Santa Claus could do when he took it into his head to be good to children.

      "You see, mother, my little legs are so thin that he won't be able to stuff all the presents into my stockings."

      "My sweet little cherub," cried her mother, hugging Molly to her breast, "you shall have the largest stocking I can procure for you, and I fancy Santa Claus will require a cart to bring all the presents."

      Day after day the amusing prattle continued, and with each day one saw the lustre returning to the beautiful eyes and the rich red colour to her lips. At last the doctor said Molly might get out. It was two days before Christmas. The nursery fire was burning cheerily, and the table was being specially decked, for we were all to dine together in Molly's honour.

      "Now I shall tell you what we will do, Molly," said her father. "I am going to tell the gardener to cut holly and mistletoe, and we shall decorate the church as a small thanksgiving for your recovery. How will that do, darling?"

      "The mistletoe will do for sis, won't it, daddy?"

      "Oh, Molly, you are awful," her sister exclaimed, her cheeks suffused with blushes. "Why don't you answer daddy's question?"

      There was no need to answer, for mother and father were laughing heartily at the joke.

      This now brings me to a digression, and I had better explain what underlay the joke about the mistletoe.

      As can be readily understood, my long sojourn in the house had brought me into very close touch with Miss Blank, and a real affection had taken root between us. I was thus able to learn something of her love affairs. One evening after Molly was convalescent, Miss Blank and I were sitting in her dressing-room, when she gave me her confidence.

      "Last year," she began, "I met two young gentlemen at a ball, one I shall call Jack, the other Herbert. The first is the son of a manufacturer in Glasgow. Herbert is Sir John ——'s son, and lives not very far from us. They both paid me a great deal of attention, and I gave each of them a good many dances. It was Christmas Eve when next I met Herbert, and he had just obtained a commission in a cavalry regiment. He was very frank and kind, and in a few days his mother, Lady ——, called and invited us to hear a choral service in the English Church. We went, and Herbert accompanied me home. This was the first of many meetings; but I daresay you know that when a man is not all that he appears to be there is something that tell us women-folks so? This feeling of mistrust in Herbert grew stronger the better I got to know him. He loaded me with costly presents which gave me more misery than happiness.

      "I lived from day to day, and was perhaps deceiving myself with the pride a girl feels when a man pays her a little more than common attention. Wisdom comes by slow degrees; and when I began to think the matter seriously over, I realised that I was not only deceiving myself but wronging him. He was going to leave for India in January; and one day I received a letter asking me to meet him on the bridge at the turn of the road. I obeyed the request, and my opportunity to clear my conscience came sooner than I expected. He asked me to promise to marry him; and, to cut a long story short, while I did not say No, I informed him that I could not possibly make up my mind to give him a definite answer just then. He was disappointed; but asked me to promise that we would remain good friends, and he left with the declaration that he would still try to win my affections. That same afternoon my father took me into his den and read me a lecture. I told him that I now saw what my folly had been, and that I realised that my feeling toward Sir ——'s son could never be anything warmer than that of friendship. Father was very stern with me for having encouraged the man's attentions; but before I left his room my dear father took me in his arms, and kissing me, said — 'Child, you have lifted a weight from my mind, and I am saved a very unpleasant task, for Sir —— is forced to send away his son from this country!'

      "As you can understand, I stood petrified to the spot for a few moments, scarcely able to believe my ears, yet relieved to think that I was able to affirm that I was perfectly free. Summer came, and with it many visitors. Among them was Jack, and, shortly before Molly fell ill, I learned what love between man and woman really meant. That brings me down to the present time, nurse. Herbert is at home, and on furlough, and although I have confessed to him my shame and remorse for the heartless way I had treated him, and that it would be impossible for us to be other than friends, he still irritates me with his attentions."

      At this point there came a tap at the door, the handle turned, and Mrs Blank's cheery voice asked if we were to remain gossiping much longer. This put a stop to our talk, and we went downstairs.

      Time passed on, and the subject of the rivals was never renewed. The day before Christmas I took little Molly down to the church to see how the decorations were progressing. The first sight that greeted our eyes was that of Miss Blank decorating the front of the pulpit, with two tall handsome men in close attendance. I readily recognised the much-talked of "Jack" as one of them.

      "Oh nurse," exclaimed Molly, "there is that horrid man. I do not like him."

      "Whom do you mean, child?" I asked in surprise.

      "He is Sir John ——'s son, nurse, and sis does not like him either."

      On the evening of that day, long after little Molly had said her prayer, offering up a supplication for the poor wee children who had no comfy beds and bright fires to keep them warm, and hoping that God would tell Santa Claus to send them lots of toys, the nursery door opened quietly and Miss Blank's tear-stricken face looked at me. And signalling to me to come, I followed to her own room.

      "Oh, nurse, isn't it awful? I have had another proposal," she said, softly closing the door.

      "You mean from Sir John's son?"

      "Yes, nurse; and not only did I refuse, but told him that I was engaged to Jack."

      "And what happened?"

      "I really cannot bear to think of it. I can hardly remember what he said. I am afraid I am a cruel monster, nurse."

      "Be brave, dear," I said, taking her in my arms, for she had burst into a flood of tears. "Come, tell me, and it will relieve your mind, perhaps."

      "When I told him that I was engaged," she continued, *"he became silent, and let drop my hand, which he had been tightly holding. Then he spoke as I had never heard him speak before. I can hardly remember what took place; but he said — "Dorothy, I am really sorry if I have vexed you. I am afraid I am to blame for a good deal of heartburning, not only to you, but to my parents. I have annoyed you with my attentions; but I really loved you, and I can say with all my heart that no man loves you better than I do. God knows I have fought hard against every temptation, and all because my love for you had opened up a new world to me. I have risked my life on a score of occasions, but fate seems to say I must suffer for my past sins, Bullets would hit men on either side of me, but they refused to strike my useless carcass. I went out of line to be in the hail of lead, but it was of no avail. I rushed into the thick of the fight to rescue a native soldier, hoping at the same time that I might be shot. In place of that I come home and find myself recommended for a Victoria Cross.'

      "'But,' I said to him, 'if you have done all you say, Herbert, and have tried to fear God and do the right, your reward must come, and you will soon forget me.'

      "'I can never forget you, Dorothy,' he said, again grasping my hand in his tremulous fingers. 'You have made a different man of me, and I now hope to be a comfort, instead of a worry, to my parents in their declining years.'

      "Then he bade me good-bye, and we parted."

*       *       *       *       *      *

      Miss Blank is married now, and Sir John ——'s son is a bachelor, but a famous officer in a crack cavalry regiment.

---

NEXT WEEK —
OUR FIRST FOOT.
A New Year Story of Bearsden.

IT was the second last week in December, and I was "sitting on my box," as the saying among nurses goes, waiting for a case. When it did come I was pleased to learn that it was light. I was pleased, for I had had a succession of rather trying patients. Another fortunate element was the fact that my patient was no further away than Bearsden, which at that time was a rapidly rising suburb. I say it was fortunate, because I was in touch with Glasgow, and one always likes to be near the hub when festivities are many and amusements attractive.

      My patient was a young lady, and her complaint was nervous prostration induced by an unfortunate love affair.

      Miss Hilda Stratton was the lady's name. She was the eldest of several sisters, and bad been the first of the family of daughters to promise her hand to another.

      My work was, as I had anticipated, very light, and the treatment recommended was abundant exercise and plenty of diversion for the patient's mind.

      It was at first difficult to persuade her to exert herself, but by degrees she gave in, and we had many a long walk and interesting talk together during our rambles. The snow was on the ground, but the air was keen and sharp, and as the days went past I could see the faded cheeks lighting up with a fresh glow of redness, and the lips colour with a look of health.

      Fully a week went past, and I had never broached the subject that had been the origin of Miss Stratton's illness. At last one day we saw a woman trudging along the frost-bound road, carrying in her arms a little mite poorly clad an shivering with the piercing cold. At her heels toddled two little children, obviously tired and footsore.

      "Let us take this woman back with us, nurse, and see what we can do to help her," said my companion.

      "Very well, my dear; but wait a moment. Let us ascertain whether she is a beggar or not. If she is begging my sympathies will not be readily enlisted"

      "Oh, nurse, you are too hard. Who knows what straits the poor creature may have been in before she was reduced to this miserable condition?"

      "I am in your hands, my dear. I am ready to do whatever you desire."

      As I finished the poor woman was close beside us, and was going to pass without speaking. I was immensely pleased, for my experience as a district nurse had taught me to be very chary about vagrants, who were trained by nature to assume a penitent air that could melt the heart of a graven image; yet, when one saw these people on a Saturday night one's pity was turned into anger. People who were too proud to beg, and preferred to battle against adversity, were those who always enlisted my warmest sympathy.

      "Where are you going, my good woman?" I asked, addressing the miserably-clad mother.

      "We are going to Glasgow, ma'am. This little thing has sore eyes, and I am taking her to see the doctor at the Eye Infirmary."

      I was astonished at the refined speech and manner of the speaker, and pressed my questioning further.

      "What does your husband do, my good woman?"

      I had made a huge mistake, for the big tears began to well up in her eyes, and her lips quivered.

      "He is ill, ma'am. He has not been able to work for three months," she stammered at last. "He got hurt at the pit-mouth. The lawyers advised him to go to Court about it in the hope that we would get damages. Instead of that the case went against us, and my husband had to pay away all his savings to defray the expenses. I try to get work, but just now there is very little doing, and things seem to be going against us. I am wae for these poor little bodies. They love their daddy and he loves them, and they are not getting half a chance."

      "Is there anything we can do for you?" asked Miss Stratton, stooping to caress the wondering little things, whose hands were curled up under their armpits to gain some warmth.

      The woman smiled, and the tears ran down her cheeks with redoubled energy. She struggled hard to speak, but failed to steady her voice enough to trust herself to answer.

      "Dinna greet, mother, the lady's no angry," chirped one of the little girls, tugging at her mother's shawl.

      "No, my bonnie dearie, the lady's kind," said the mother. "See, go to the side o' the road and pick up yon," the mother continued, steadying herself, and directing the two little girls to cross the road so that they might be out of earshot for a moment. Promptly the little things obeyed, and scampered away as light-hearted as only innocent children can be.

      "If — if — we could get two or three toys to give them at New Year we would wish for no more," said the mother, rocking the baby in her arms from side to side and fixing her eyes upon the laughing children who were struggling to gain possession of the stick on the other side of the road. "Their dad is breaking his heart because he can't give them their Ne'erday, and the mites are wondering what they are to get."

      "My dear body, if that is all you want, we will soon satisfy you. Come with us and we shall see what we can do to help you," said Miss Stratton.

      The woman was full of gratitude, and it would have delighted the heart of the greatest sinner had he seen the eyes of these two little girls watching the preparations in the dining-room for the royal feast of good things that Miss Stratton was preparing with her own hand.

      The fire was heaped up with coal, and a warm rug spread out on the hearth. Books were put into their laps, and the children were lost in wonder. Hob soup and milk pudding they had in abundance, and a basket was piled up with clothes and dainties for them to take home.

      "Now, my good woman, you go home. We have got your address, and my doctor will come and attend to your baby and husband. We may walk out to see you to-morrow," said Miss Stratton, as the family went off, the two little girls laden with rag dolls and toys, the playthings of Miss Stratton's childhood days.

      "Now, nurse," said Miss Stratton, when we were alone, "I feel better to-day than I have done for a very long time. What a pleasure it is to be able to do good. I once tried to do good, but failed, and that is why you are here. Would you like to hear the story?"

      "I should only be too glad, Miss Hilda. I have often wondered when you would tell me."

      "So you have been curious to know, have you? Well, well. I see nurses are like all other human beings. I can assure you you would never have heard the story but for to-day's experience. It has melted my heart. Up till to-day it had been stoney indeed. Yes indeed, nurse. You need not cock your eyebrows in surprise. I felt that it would be almost impossible for me to forgive. I was engaged to Jack Kinder two years ago. I was envied by all, for Jack was accomplished in many ways. He was a lawyer, and by leaps and bounds seemed to have risen to a position in the forefront of legal men in the city. No doubt his father's connection had done Jack a great deal of good, yet the son had great natural ability. His birthday was in September, and we were to have been married then; but there came a day when I offered my advice upon a matter of vital importance. Jack had begun to lend money to his clients, and I suppose was justified in demanding high rates of interest. He never spoke to me of his office affairs, but I had heard in a drawing-room one day a conversation between two well-known gossips — unfortunately members of our sex, nurse. I had no right to listen, perhaps, but what could I do but listen when I heard these two retailers of scandal discuss my Jack?

      "'Yes indeed,' said one of them, 'poor Mrs Smith is in his clutches; he is charging her fifteen per cent., and Mrs Johnson is in the same plight. It is really hard upon these widows that they should be swindled in that fashion by a young brat of a boy who, simply because he has filled his father's shoes, takes advantage of defenceless ladies.'

      "'I should certainly take my affairs out of his hands,' said the other gossip.

      "'It would be awkward for Mrs Smith to do so,' explained gossip number two, 'for reasons that I need not mention.'

      "And so on the two proceeded, vilifying my Jack until I could stand it no longer. I therefore rose and took my departure, determined to ask Jack what truth there was in the story.

      "'My dear girl, it is sheer nonsense. Don't fret about what people say,' was the explanation I received when I spoke to him, and no more would have been said, for I was quite satisfied.

      "One afternoon in August my father came home bearing bad news.

      "It was to the effect that strange stories were current in commercial circles concerning the firm of which Jack was partner. The firm had been investing money for its clients, and some of the investments had proved utterly worthless. My father did not say more, but from his ominous looks I saw that affairs were very serious. Two nights after this the news became worse, and fears were entertained that the money that had been invested had been placed in speculative concerns, and, worse still, that Jack had been at the bottom of the whole concern. I had not seen Jack for a few nights, as he was busy and unable to come out to Bearsden, for he lived on the other side of Glasgow. Unable to control my anxiety any longer, I wrote and requested him to come and see me, even though it should be at his personal inconvenience. He came, and we went out together, so that I might be able freely to tell him what I had been hearing. He listened attentively to my story, and when I had completed my narrative he turned to me rather angrily.

      "'Now, Jack, dear boy,' I said, linking my arm through his, 'do trust me and tell me all about it. I am vexed beyond measure to hear these rumours and want to contradict them. You know how uncharitable the public is, and how it will put the worst complexion possible upon these stories.'

      "'Surely you do not require me to help you?' he answered, shaking my arm free from his, 'Is that all the trust you put in me, Hilda?'

      "'Oh, Jack, do not be so hasty. Listen to me for a few moments,' I pleaded. 'Think how much stronger my denial would be if I were able to say to people that their slanders were false, that their stories were malicious, for I had been told the real truth of the whole matter by you.'

      "'I am much obliged to you, Hilda, for your very great desire to learn the truth, as you call it; but I will not satisfy the public by telling the world at large what my private affairs are. I thought you would have known better than to be led away by idle gossip retailed by your father ——'

      "'Stop, Jack!' I cried. 'I love you with all my heart, and you know that better than any one; but you must not speak in that way about my father. He had our best interests at heart when he spoke to me about you, and he still believes the stories to be untrue.'

      "'Pshaw! I fail to see where the interest comes in. If that is all you have to say to me, I shall bid you good-evening. My time is too precious to be wasted in trifles like this.'

      "He said no more, but turning on his heel walked away in the direction of the railway station. My first promptings were to call to him to return, but he had been so utterly unreasonable that I could not bring myself to plead with him any more. I was speechless with amazement, and intense disappointment overtook me. I went home and cried like to break my heart. My mother, quick to suspect that something serious was amiss, taxed me with my vexation, and to her I confided my secret, on the understanding that she would say nothing to my father. If he learned the truth, I knew there would be a nasty experience in store for poor Jack. I blamed myself a good deal, for I felt I had interfered in a matter that did not concern me, yet I felt satisfied that I had a right to know the actual truth. Matters went on getting worse and worse, until at last, at the end of October, came the news that the firm of lawyers had come to grief, and that Jack had disappeared. This went to my heart like a knife. The man whom I had loved passionately had deceived me, and I felt that I had become the laughing-stock of many, in place of one envied by hundreds. I am afraid I took to brooding, and often at night I have thought that my mind would give way. Jack had been my idol. Every word that he had spoken had been treasured in my brain, and I looked up to him as only a woman can look up to a man whom she admires and loves. You have worked wonders with me, I must confess. You have cheered me and made me see things in a better light; but the sight of that woman and her dear little children has done more than anything to lift my veil of unforgiveness. I thought my lot hard, but I have seen that others have greater crosses to bear. Now, nurse, that is my story."

      I thanked her for trusting me with her secret, and heartily sympathised with her in her grief, which only a girl of her splendid force of character could have met so philosophically and bravely.

      Every day for the ensuing few days we visited the house of the poor woman. The bairns were like new beings, decked as they were with their warm dresses and white pinafores. The husband, too, began to be more cheerful, and the doctor gave the man every encouragement that he would yet be able to work and earn a respectable wage.

      It was the last day of the year, and we were sitting round the fireside in a wide circle waiting for the New Year to come in, and to extend to one another the greetings of the season before retiring to bed. The clock was striking twelve when our jovialities were interrupted by a knock at the door.

      "A woman wants to see Miss Hilda," said the servant, looking in upon the company, suddenly struck dumb by the strange announcement.

      "Tell her to come in," was the general chorus. "She will be our 'first-foot."

      "I have asked her, sir," answered the maid. "She wants to see Miss Hilda particularly, she says."

      I went to the door with Miss Stratton, and was astonished beyond words when we were confronted by the mother of the children whom we had met on the road.

      "Dear me, Mrs Waldon," exclaimed Miss Stratton, "have you come all this way to 'first-foot' us? How good of you; do come in?"

      "No, ma'am, if you will excuse me I must not wait. I came to bear you good news, and I thought this a good time to bring it. My brother has just returned from America, and when there he met a young gentleman whom you know well. My brother is an engine-driver on the Pacific Railway, and he came across this young gentleman, who said he wished to be remembered to you. He sent his love, and said he hoped to deserve your pity and forgiveness, as he had done wrong by you and many others."

      "Did he give your brother his name?"

      "Yes; he said to my brother that you were the sweetest woman on earth, and I said to my brother that no truer words had been spoken. He said to my brother that he was to tell you that Jack was a ticket-clerk, and had been promised promotion, and that he would never return to this country, which he had disgraced, but that he would never forget you. I hope, ma'am, I have not annoyed you. I see you are crying. I thought you would like to hear this message, for my brother said this Jack was real penitent, and wanted to be forgiven."

      "My dear woman, you have done well to tell me this," said Miss Stratton. "I am delighted to get your news. There is good in the world yet, and what better time could you have chosen to tell me? It is well to know that there is a spirit of forgiveness abroad as well as at our own fireside."

*       *       *       *       *      *

      Strange as it may seem, the next New Year brought welcome news to me. I may as well give the news as it came from Miss Stratton herself. I give the letter in full:—

---

NEXT WEEK —
A DESPERATE SCHEME.
A Montrose Story.

I   HAD had my customary fortnight's rest when one morning Miss Morton handed me the enclosed note:—

      "You can be there this afternoon. Let me know what your impressions are so soon as you have been able to form an opinion."

      "What will be required of me, Miss Morton? I have never nursed a case of this kind before."

      "I fancy you will meet a rational being, save that she may hold some exalted opinions about different things, I once had a patient who talked seriously about dining with the Queen, and inviting nobility to share the most extravagant hospitality. Yet all her talk was based upon pure imagination. My best advice to you, therefore, is to employ tact, and to humour your patient. Good food and abundant exercise are also very necessary."

      To cut a long story short, I arrived at Montrose about five in the afternoon, and was driven for an hour along a lonely country thoroughfare until we reached an isolated building standing about fifty yards off the roadway. At the entrance door I was met by a lady and a gentleman. The lady was extravagantly, nay, stylishly, dressed, middle-aged, and extremely affable, By her side stood a gentleman of decidedly French appearance, whose speech indicated that he was in reality a foreigner. He rubbed his hands together like a pleased shop-walker, and bowed and scraped like a true Continental. His figure, unlike that of his lady friend, was slim, and he was dressed in orthodox medical garb, while his thin sallow face was adorned with a tiny imperial and carefully-waxed moustache.

      "Klein is my name, nurse," said the lady. "This is Dr Smolami, who is taking charge of my niece, Miss Nethersole."

      "My patient is English, then?" I said, running through my mind the different names that I had heard.

      "Yes, she is English. We stay in London; but if you can discover that she is English it will be a feather in your cap, for we have been quite unable to persuade her to say a word to us. She is extremely down-spirited, poor thing, and we want to know what sorrow or grief it is that is weighing upon her mind. She has become suspicious, and refuses to confide in either of us. Thrown upon our last resources, we made up our minds that she must have a professional nurse to take care of her. If you can persuade her to speak, or to make any confession, you will be amply rewarded."

      We had now reached the entrance hall, from which branched off a long corridor which led to a detached wing of the large house. At the end of the corridor we were confronted by a curtained doorway, which we passed through.

      Mrs Klein looked meaningly at me when she softly closed the door behind her, for we were in the presence of the patient. Seated at a window, her back toward us, was a young lady dressed in black. Her chin rested in the palm of her left hand, and her elbow was supported by the arm of an easychair.

      "This is the nurse, Isobel," said Mrs Klein. "I shall leave you together so that you may become acquainted."

      So soon as we were alone I walked to the window and drew my chair close beside the girl, who up till that moment had never moved a muscle.

      "Well, my dear, I hope you and I will be good friends soon. You must tell me what it is that is worrying you. I want to cheer you up," I said, bending forward to look into her face.

      I was struck by the far-away, dreamy look in her eyes when she turned to view me with apparent curiosity. She had been a beautiful girl; but the lustre and brightness were no longer in her brown eyes, and the dark rings that showed round them told only too plainly that she was not in robust health. For a full half-hour I plied her with questions, and used every known art to persuade her to speak, but never a movement of her lips could I detect. As dusk was approaching I rose to look about me and to comprehend my surroundings. The room in which we were was large and high in the ceiling, but absolutely devoid of interest. In one corner was a threadbare couch, and in another a wicker-work chair, over which had been carelessly thrown a shabby cover. A carpet square covered the centre of the floor, and on this stood a mahogany table, surrounded by three common chairs. The walls were quite bare and dusty. On the southern wall of the room were two large windows devoid of curtains or blinds, and looking out upon an ill-cared-for garden, which was surrounded by a high fence. On the southern wall of the room was a small window, through which I could not see on account of a curtain stretched across the other side. I couldn't restrain a sigh after I had completed my survey, for it was the worst possible room in the world in which one could have placed a low-spirited person.

      I saw the doctor soon after, and from him learned my course of procedure. I was to ask for whatever I wished and it would be given to me, provided I could get Miss Nethersole to speak. Out-door exercise was forbidden, and in view of what I had heard I thought this a most extraordinary provision. I offered a mild remonstrance, but the look on the doctor's face showed that I had better exercise great care with my suggestions. Lastly, my work was to be confined to day duty.

      At the end of a week I could not say that I had made any progress. Miss Nethersole could not be tempted to please me in the slightest degree. It was difficult to know what to tell Miss Morton, but I could conscientiously declare that I was intensely disappointed. Suddenly it struck me that we had no address by which we might be known, so I asked Mrs Klein to supply the information.

      "Care of Post Office, Montrose, is our address," she answered. "We have no delivery here at all. All our letters have to be called for."

      This I thought exceedingly strange, and the more I pondered over the matter in the solitude of my room the more reason had I to doubt the story. I accordingly wrote a guarded letter to Miss Morton and asked her to discover if possible what truth there was in the story about the non-delivery of letters. To convey this message I employed a simple but well-known cypher which consisted in spelling out the words of the message by dotting the necessary letters. If my letter were opened I knew the cypher would escape the vigilant eyes of either Mrs Klein or the evil-looking Frenchman, whom I had learned to thoroughly mistrust. I cannot say that I had been any more favourably impressed with Mrs Klein, for I had been seeing many little things that led me to suspect there was something not altogether above suspicion in the way the affairs of the house were being conducted.

      One point especially struck me as peculiar, and that was that while the doctor always addressed me in broken English I had more than once overhead him speak in perfect Cockney to Mrs Klein. On more than one occasion, too, I had caught a momentary glimpse of the man's face as he looked into the room through the small curtained window to which I have already referred.

      In three days Miss Morton's reply came, and I tore open the envelope hastily. The gum had been steamed and the contents read, but this did not distress me, for the letter conveyed on the face of it no special meaning, though the cypher read as follows:— "Your letter tampered with. Nonsense about delivery. Be careful and report at once any suspicion."

      On the tenth night of my residence in the house I was prevented from sleeping by an acute attack of neuralgia. Hour after hour I tossed about, until at last, out of all patience, I rose, and with the help of the dawning light proceeded to read.

      Presently I was startled by a loud but muffled scream, as if some one were in pain. I crept to the door to listen, and after some moments the sound was repeated. It was a cry of agony, and I opened the door, trembling in every limb. I had not long to wait, for I heard moans that could come from no other than my patient. Hastily donning my dressing-gown, I crept downstairs and boldly went to the bedroom from whence the sounds had come.

      When I opened the door I was confronted by a strange sight. Miss Nethersole was in bed, and at the head of the bed stood the doctor holding the poor girl's wrists together as if he had been trying to twist her arms out of their sockets, Miss Nethersole's eyes were blazing with excitement, and the beads of perspiration were streaming down her flushed cheeks. Mrs Klein was bending over the girl in a threatening attitude. When I walked in upon them they met me with well-concealed surprise.

      "Well, nurse, has she disturbed you, too?" asked Mrs Klein. "It is really absurd. Night after night she screams like a mad thing, and not only does she refuse to sleep, but prevents us from resting. I am surprised you have not heard her before."

      "Surely, Mrs Klein, Miss Nethersole can be controlled in a more gentle fashion? Why did you not ask me to relieve you? I should have been only too glad to take night duty to assist you."

      "You must allow the doctor and myself to be the better judges as to what we think ought to be done with her. We have had six months of this kind of thing, and ought to know which is the best weapon to control her horrible temper and sullen disposition. But if you are anxious to look after her you may try your influence. Oscar, we will leave them," said Mrs Klein, stiffly, and with a touch of temper in her words.

      So saying they left the room and closed the door behind them.

      Their departure was the signal for an outburst of tears from Miss Nethersole, and for the first time a thrill of delight shot through me when she stole her fevered hand into mine and looked supplicatingly at me through her tear-dimmed eyes. Pressing her hand encouragingly I put my finger to my lips to enjoin silence, and proceeded to adjust the disordered pillows about her head.

      My neuralgia had been completely frightened away, and as I gazed at the face furrowed with pain I puzzled hard to think how I could save the girl from her tormentors. Gradually her slim fingers relaxed their hold of my hand, and the poor girl fell into a delightfully refreshing sleep.

      At nine o'clock Mrs Klein came into the room and asked me how I had fared. When I informed her that I had not heard anything, and that the patient had slept, the lady volunteered the statement that they had made up their minds to risk the journey South, as their residence in Scotland was going to prove abortive.

      "We fancied the change would have done the girl good," she said. "In place of that she has grown much worse in every way. We shall send her to a private institution, where they may tame her better than we have been able to do."

      "Pardon my suggestion, Mrs Klein" — hesitated — "but would it not be wise to seek the aid of a specialist on this form of disease? It might save you a great deal of trouble and anxiety."

      "Well, nurse, with all due deference to your Scotch doctors, I think our London physicians are quite as well versed in these diseases, and Dr Smolami is but following up the advice of a well-known London specialist."

      My request for calling in a specialist was but an attempt to gain a proper knowledge of the girl's illness, but Mrs Klein was far too astute for me. I thereupon resolved to make all speed to sift the matter to the bottom before Saturday came round, and I had only four days at my disposal.

      Every night before retiring to rest I drank a cup of coffee. What the schemers put in my coffee that night I am not aware, but I slept on until far in the next day. I felt wretched, my tongue was parched and dry, and I suffered from a splitting headache.

      Nevertheless I went downstairs, and, after apologising for my lateness, proceeded upon my daily task as if nothing in the world had occurred that called for comment. Miss Nethersole looked more haggard than ever. I asked her if she had rested well, but she deigned no answer, though with the corner of her eye she gave me a meaning look.

      "There is something in your eye," I remarked, and bent over her to whisper in her ear — "I will save you. Keep up for a day yet." There was really nothing in her eye, but the ruse enabled me to effect my purpose. I took no coffee that night, but puzzled for three hours over the framing of a letter that enabled me to communicate my suspicions to Miss Morton, and to request her to act with all possible speed.

      The ensuing forty-eight hours were uncommonly long and wearisome. At intervals I stole up to my room, from the window of which I could command a distant view of the road from Montrose.

      For two successive nights there had been a recurrence of the screaming, and above it I heard the angry words of the doctor and Mrs Klein demanding the tortured girl to speak and tell what she knew. I dared not move out of my room, for they might have been driven to desperate measures, and I had every confidence that help would come before the day of their departure arrived. On the Friday afternoon I had begun to pack when, on looking out of my window, I saw a trap come along the dusty road. It contained two people besides the driver, but as the trap approached my heart sank when I saw two men jump to the ground, each carrying a packman's bundle over his shoulder.

      Opening my door gently, I stood to listen, for the men were coming to the house.

      Presently there was a loud knock, then I heard many hurried whisperings between the doctor and Mrs Klein. Next the door was opened, and I heard the conversation that passed.

      "No, no, we want nothing here," she said at last, exasperated with the solicitations of the pedlars.

      "Perhaps the nurse will want something, then?" said one of the men.

      "There is no nurse here," came the reply, and from the noise that ensued I fancied that the lady had tried to shut the door in the men's faces. After a little scuffling the men were able to make their way into the house, and my heart went faster with excitement and joy, for I guessed that the pedlars must be none other than detectives in disguise.

      "Well, what do you men want?" demanded the doctor, now appearing on the scene.

      "We want you both, and the less you say the better," answered the detective. "Where is the nurse?"

      "My good man, you are making some huge mistake," pleaded Mrs Klein.

      "That remains to be seen, madam." Then lowering his voice the same speaker addressed his companion and said — "You watch them, James, while I go and search the house."

      I anticipated him, however, for I came running down the stairs and almost rushed into his arms as he was coming up the creaky steps.

      "Ah! there you are. "That's lie number one," said the detective, addressing me. "Come this way, miss, and let us see where the young lady is."

      I shall never forget the scowls that met me as I walked past Mrs Klein and her accomplice, and led the way to Miss Nethersole's presence.

      "Now, my dear, you are saved," I cried, rushing forward to throw my arms round the girl's neck.

      "There are two detectives here and your tormentors are handcuffed. Tell the officer all about it."

      "Oh, thank God, and thank you, nurse, I wish I had known this from the beginning," the girl cried, starting to her feet and looking at us in bewilderment. "Is it true, are they caught at last? They told me that you were a friend of theirs, and that is why I mistrusted you and would not speak. It was only the other night that I found out the truth when you came downstairs and saw them torturing me. I dared not speak, for they were watching and listening night and day."

      "Very good, that will do, miss," said the detective, scribbling a few notes in his book. "I shall take them to Montrose; and you nurse, might wait here while my friend Inspector Purves takes this lady's statement."

      The officer moved off, and in a few moments Inspector Purves made his appearance, and proceeded to note down the points of importance in the narrative that I was to hear for the first time.

      "About six months ago the gentleman to whom I was engaged to be married," began Miss Nethersole, speaking in a feeble but deliberate voice, " was involved in a very serious crime. A large sum of money was at stake, and this man who calls himself Dr Smolami was the means of my friend getting into difficulties. My friend was compelled to flee the country to save himself from imprisonment, and very foolishly before he left he told Smolami that I knew where a large part of the stolen money was hidden. Smolami's real name is Solomon, and Mrs Klein is a well-known resetter in Hampstead. Solomon and she laid their heads together, and offered me all manner of bribes to divulge the hiding-place of the money; but I refused, because I thought I would be able to recover it, and fly with it to America, where I would be married. Then they took me to Berwick, but something frightened them, for they brought me next to Leith, and from Leith I was removed to this house. I resolved to seal my lips, and they have used every known means to torture and starve me into submission. You may wonder at my telling you a story that reflects against myself, for it makes me out to be an associate of thieves. I mean to hand back the money to its rightful owwners, and will tell you where it is hidden. The gentleman to whom I was to be married was once a medical student, and so was Solomon, but they fell in with associates who taught them to gamble, and I knew nothing of the lives they had been leading until this horrible embezzlement was committed. I was determined that neither Solomon nor Mrs Klein would reap the benefits of the gains which I now see were ill-gotten. I have no strength to tell you any more just now, but some day will let you know the whole story. I hope I have told you enough to punish these cruel people?"

      "That will be plenty to go on with, miss," said the detective. "It is a pity you had anything to do with such a crowd, but you have learned a trying lesson."

      So had I.