At another time I might have recognized the danger of my post; but my
patient had become so childish-looking, and her mind, enfeebled by
delirium, was in so childish a condition, that it seemed to me I little
more than tending some young girl whose age was far below my own. I did
not trouble myself, moreover, with any exact introspection. There was an
under-current of satisfaction and happiness running through the hours
which I was not inclined to fathom. The winds continued against me, and
I had nothing to do but to devote myself to mam'zelle, as I called her
in common with the people about me. She was still so far in a precarious
state that, if she had been living in Guernsey, it would have been my
duty to pay to her unflagging attention.

But upon Friday afternoon Tardif, who had been down to the Creux Harbor,
brought back the information that one of the Sark cutters was about to
venture to make the passage across the Channel the next morning, to
attend the Saturday market, if the wind did not rise again in the night.
It was clear as day what I must do. I must bid farewell to my patient,
however reluctant I might be, with a very uncertain prospect of seeing
her again. A patient in Sark could not have many visits from a doctor in
Guernsey.

She was recovering with the wonderful elasticity of a thoroughly sound
constitution; but I had not considered it advisable for her even to sit
up yet, with her broken arm and sprained ankle. I took my seat beside
her for the last time, her fair, sweet face lying upon the pillow as it
had done when I first saw it, only the look of suffering was gone. I had
made up my mind to learn something of the mystery that surrounded her;
and the child, as I called her to myself, was so submissive to me that
she would answer my questions readily.