At this moment Jarvis appeared, looking positively frightened.

“Oh! why did you not wake me, Dexie?” she cried.  “I cannot see how I slept so heavily.  But I depended on you to rouse me, Dexie.”

“It is all right, Mrs. Jarvis.  Papa passed a splendid night; so you were not needed.  But wait a minute, I have something to tell you.  I did not want you up, for I had company of my own, and I have news for you this morning.”  Then with a blushing face she raised her hand to show her ring, adding, “I am engaged to be married.”

“My dear, is it possible!” and the motherly creature took the fresh, happy face between her hands and kissed both cheeks.  “Is it Mr. Traverse that is going to take you away from us?”

“He will not take me away while papa needs me; but it is to be a secret for the present, Mrs. Jarvis, for under the circumstances we can make no plans for the future.”

“Yes, I understand you, dear.  You can trust me; and I am well pleased to hear of your good fortune.  Mr. Traverse is thoughtful and tender beyond his years, and I have learned to respect him highly.  But you will go and lie down now, won’t you?  I will see to everything, so go to your room and make your mind easy about the work this morning.”

When Dexie appeared again in her father’s room some hours later, he looked at her with pleasure.  Her face seemed to have grown beautiful; love had so glorified it that her happiness seemed to speak from every feature.  He did not wonder that Guy Traverse had lost his heart to his little nurse.

“Do you feel well enough to-day, papa, to dictate those unfinished stories?” she asked, as she wheeled his couch over to the sunshine.  “You have left those three fishermen quarrelling about who caught the largest fish, till by this time the fish must be spoiled, to say nothing of the temper of the fishermen.  And there is that city belle, who wished to become a second Rosa Bonheur; you have left her in the pasture fleeing for her life, with the vicious bull in full pursuit, her sketch-book flying in the air.  Now, surely by this time the brute has killed her, or she has died of fright.  Then there are several other characters all left in some dilemma that must be settled by this time in some way or other,” and gaily talking, she brought out her writing tablet and set it across her knee.

“Well, it seems to me, Dexie, that as soon as I get my characters into some trouble I lose all interest in them; I wonder what trait that represents in myself,” he added, musingly.  “Finish the stories yourself, Dexie.  I am sick and tired of them, so get them out of the fix they are in the best way you can.”

“Well, how would you like to begin something new, papa?” her only idea being to get his mind occupied, and this had been a wonderful means of diversion ever since he was hurt.