was trembling with terror. Even on Sebastian's pale face, usually so
unmoved, save by the watchful eagerness of scientific curiosity, I saw
signs of anxiety.

After four hours of profound slumber--breath hovering, as it seemed,
between life and death--she began to come to again. In half an hour more
she was wide awake; she opened her eyes and asked for a glass of hock,
with beef essence or oysters.

That evening, by six o'clock, she was quite well and able to go about
her duties as usual.

"Sebastian is a wonderful man," I said to her, as I entered her ward on
my rounds at night. "His coolness astonishes me. Do you know, he watched
you all the time you were lying asleep there as if nothing were the
matter."

"Coolness?" she inquired, in a quiet voice. "Or cruelty?"

"Cruelty?" I echoed, aghast. "Sebastian cruel! Oh, Nurse Wade, what an
idea! Why, he has spent his whole life in striving against all odds to
alleviate pain. He is the apostle of philanthropy!"

"Of philanthropy, or of science? To alleviate pain, or to learn the
whole truth about the human body?"

"Come, come, now," I cried. "You analyse too far. I will not let even
YOU put me out of conceit with Sebastian." (Her face flushed at
that "even you"; I almost fancied she began to like me.) "He is the
enthusiasm of my life; just consider how much he has done for humanity!"