“Now, John, do pray be careful and not hurt him much!” cried Maggie, as she saw how pale and faint he was, while even Hagar forgot the curled lip, which the young man bit until the blood started through, so intense was his agony when they lifted him upon the litter.  “The camphor, Hagar, the camphor!” said Maggie; and the stranger did not push it aside when her hand poured it on his head, but the laughing eyes, now dim with pain, smiled gratefully upon her, and the quivering lips once murmured as she walked beside him, “Heaven bless you, Maggie Miller!”

Arrived at Hagar’s cottage, the old woman suggested that he be carried in there, saying as she met Maggie’s questioning glance, “I can take care of him better than anyone else.”

The pain by this time was intolerable, and scarcely knowing what he said the stranger whispered, “Yes, yes, leave me here.”

For a moment the bearers paused, while Maggie, bending over the wounded man, said softly:  “Can’t you bear it a little longer, until our house is reached?  You’ll be more comfortable there.  Grandma has gone to England, and I’ll take care of you myself!”

This last was perfectly in accordance with Maggie’s frank, impulsive character, and it had the desired effect.  Henry Warner would have borne almost death itself for the sake of being nursed by the young girl beside him, and he signified his willingness to proceed, while at the same time his hand involuntarily grasped that of Maggie, as if in the touch of her snowy fingers there were a mesmeric power to soothe his pain.  In the meantime a hurried consultation had been held between Mrs. Jeffrey and Theo as to the room suitable for the stranger to be placed in.

“It’s not likely he is much,” said Theo; “and if grandma were here I presume she would assign him the chamber over the kitchen.  The wall is low on one side, I know, but I dare say he is not accustomed to anything better.”

Accordingly several articles of stray lumber were removed from the chamber, which the ladies arranged with care, and which when completed presented quite a respectable appearance.  But Maggie had no idea of putting her guest, as she considered him, in the kitchen chamber; and when, as the party entered the house, Mrs. Jeffrey, from the head of the stairs, called out, “This way, Maggie; tell them to come this way,” she waved her aside, and led the way to a large airy room over the parlor, where, in a high, old-fashioned bed, surrounded on all sides by heavy damask curtains, they laid the weary stranger.  The village surgeon arriving soon after, the fractured bones were set, and then, as perfect quiet seemed necessary, the room was vacated by all save Maggie, who glided noiselessly around the apartment, while the eyes of the sick man followed her with eager, admiring glances, so beautiful she looked to him in her new capacity of nurse.