"To--you, Jack! then you care--still!"

"Care!"

He drew his hand away and walked over to the window. The morning was
breaking: morning in the Strand; and already there was a busy hum
without.

Her eyes followed him wistfully, with a little wonderment in
them--and then the lids fell over them.

"I feel strangely weak--but--so--happy, Jack," she said. Her breath
came more easily and she slept.

Sir John Chetwynd was in his accustomed place at the accustomed hour,
grave, attentive and professional as was his wont; but after his
consulting hours were over, he went back to Cecil Street, leaving
word with Soames where he was to be found, if wanted, prepared for
another night's vigil.

"She seems neither better nor worse," said Saidie, meeting him in the
little sitting-room and carefully pulling to the door behind her.
"She is very, very weak. Is there a chance for her?"

"I am afraid to say--it depends so much on what recuperative power
she has. If the bleeding can be stopped, I shall be more hopeful."

"What is she to do, poor Bella? She will never be able to sing again,
I suppose?"