"Of course," Rose assured him, shaking hands in friendly fashion. "Don't
forget that it's a secret."

"I won't. Good-bye, Rose."

When she had gone, the nurse studied him furtively, from across the
room. He had changed in some subtle way--he seemed stronger than before.
Unless it was excitement, to be followed by a reaction, Miss Bernard had
done him good. The night would prove it definitely, one way or the
other.

Allison slept soundly until daybreak, for the first time--not stupor,
but natural sleep. The nurse began to wonder if it was possible that a
hand so badly crushed and broken could be healed. Hitherto her service
had been mechanically kind; she had taken no interest because she saw no
hope. How wonderful it would be if that long procession of learned
counsellors should be mistaken after all!

Rose walked home, disdaining the waiting carriage. She had forgotten her
hat and the sunset lent radiance to a face that needed no more. By rare
tact and kindness, Allison had removed the sting from her shame and the
burden she had borne so long was lifted from her heavy heart.

She was happier now than she had ever been before in her life, but she
must hide her joy from the others as she had previously hidden her pain
--or tried to. She knew that Isabel would not see, but Aunt Francesca's
eyes were keen and she could not tell even her just now.

How strange it would be to wake in the night, without that dull, dead