“Miss Ross!” he exclaimed—­for surely, surely, he could not have mistaken the pale olive face and the beautiful, soft, dark, lustrous eyes; nay, he made bold to put his hand on her arm, so determined was he to detain her.

“I—­I only wished to hear how he was—­but—­but not that he should know,” Nina said (she was all trembling, and her lips were pale).

“Oh, yes,” Mangan said.  “But you must not go away—­I have something to tell you—­come in-doors!  You know he is seriously ill—­you cannot refuse!”

There was but an intervening step or two; she timidly followed and entered the little hall; and he closed the door after them.

“Is he so very ill?” she said, in a low voice.  “I saw it in the newspapers—­I could not wait—­but he is not to know that I came—­”

“But—­but I have something to say to you,” he answered her, somewhat breathlessly, for he was uncertain what to do; he only knew that she must not go.  “Yes, he is very ill—­and distressed—­his brain is excited—­and we want to calm him.  Surely you will come and speak to him—­”

She shrank back involuntarily, and there was a pathetic fear in the large, timid eyes.

“Me?  No—­no!” she said.  “Ah, no, I could not do that!  Is he so very ill?”

Tears stood in the long, black lashes, and she turned her head away.

“But you don’t understand,” Maurice said, eagerly.  “All the way through this illness, it is about you he has been grieving; you have never been out of his thoughts; and if you saw his distress, I know you would do anything in your power to quiet him a little.  It is what his cousin said yesterday.  ‘If we could only find Miss Ross,’ she said, ’that would be everything; that would bring him rest; he would be satisfied that she was well, and remembering him, and not gone away forever.’  I never expected to see you; I thought it was useless trying to find you; but now—­now—­you cannot be so cruel as to refuse him this comfort!  You would be sorry if you saw him.  Perhaps he might not recognize you—­probably not.  But if you could persuade him that you really were in London—­that you would come some other day soon to see him again—­I know that would pacify him, just when peace of mind is all-important.  Now, can you refuse?”

“No, no,” Nina said, in a low voice; “you will do with me what you like.  It is no matter—­what it is to me.  Do with me as you please.”  And then again she turned her large, dark eyes upon him, as if to make sure he was not deceiving her.  “Did you say that—­that he remembered me—­that he had asked for me?”

“Remember you!  If you only could have heard the piteous way he has talked of you—­always and always—­and of your going away.  I have such a lot I could tell you!  He had those loving-cups filled one night—­there was some fancy in his head he could call you back—­”

She was sobbing a little; but she bravely dried her tears, and said,