And so, you know, they were married, with only the doctor and Mrs. Keller to witness the ceremony; and at once, with her little decided way, the sort of certainty that years of self-dependence give, she became his nurse, attending to him as persistently and indefatigably as if the sole purpose for which she had been born was that.  From the first service she rendered him—­bathing his head and face through an intense August day with iced water delicately perfumed, arranging the curtains so that the air, when there was a breeze, blew freely to him, though the glare of the sun was gone, and his room in dim, soothing shadow—­she seemed a blessing to him.  Some hours after she came with her bright, quick ways, arranging his disordered room, bringing order out of chaos on his dressing-table, never peeping into things, and yet getting them into beautiful order, and, wonderful to relate, keeping them so:  the air seemed to grow cooler, his medicine less bitter, the time shorter, and his broken leg and weary back to ache less acutely.

One day she said in a shy way, “Mr. Norval, if you will let James lay out your things, I will see what mending they need, and will sit here and do them, so you sha’n’t spend so many hours alone.  Mrs. Keller has made some friends in the house, and they kindly sit with her so much that she does not need me.”

“But, Percy, what’s the use of James having a hand in it?  Here are my keys,” with a laugh as he handed them to her:  “you know they are a part of the worldly goods with which I did thee endow; and the keys always belong to the female department by right, don’t they?”

She took them with a vivid blush.  “Shall I look over your trunks and bureau, then?” she asked.

“Certainly, while I go to sleep and dream what a jolly thing it is to have you here.”  Then, pretending to sleep, he watched her with careful hands examine his belongings, with a contemptuous little smile at this piece of bungling mending or an anxious frown over that frayed place.  Then how neatly she folded and laid back all the good, and seated herself with a pile before her and began to sew!  When he opened his eyes she handed him the keys.

“No, Percy, keep them:  I make all right and title to them over to you,” he said.

From that day he seemed to feel delight in her companionship, reading to her hour after hour while she sewed, always choosing some poetical or light bit of reading—­“To suit my capacity,” she thought.

So they had gone on week after week—­with the single exception of the Rollins episode—­without any change.  He was a rare favorite in society, and every day received a host of calls from gentlemen, baskets of fruits and flowers from ladies.  Always, when a card was sent up, she would gather all her womanish “traps” together and go to Mrs. Keller—­this, too, in spite of his earnest invitation to her to remain.

“No:  you can have a pleasanter call with no ladies present, and Mrs. Keller needs me.  I’ll be back in time for your medicine.”