I couldn't have asked, unless I had known about--the other
man, and you wouldn't have told me, I know. It wouldn't have been like
you to tell me."
There was a knock, the door opened, and the nurse came in, watch in
hand. "I'm sorry, Miss Bernard, but you can come to-morrow if he's well
enough."
"I'll be well enough," said Allison, smiling.
"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.
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