“Yes.  How is he?” Edward asked, stepping in and drawing his sister on with him.

“Sick, signor, very sick, but he will grow better now.  I shall expect to see him up in a few weeks,” the doctor answered with a significant glance and smile as he turned, with a second and still lower bow, to the sweet, fair maiden.

She did not see it, for her eyes were roving round the room—­a disorderly and comfortless place enough, but garnished with some gems of art; an unfinished picture was on the easel; there were others with their faces to the wall; models, statues in various stages of completion, and the implements of painter and sculptor were scattered here and there; a screen, an old lounge, a few chairs, and a table littered with books, papers, and drawing materials, completed the furniture of the large, dreary apartment.

An open door gave a glimpse into an inner room, from which came a slight sound as of a restless movement, a sigh or groan.

Pointing to the chairs, the physician invited the strangers to be seated.

Edward put his sister in one and took possession of another close at her side.

“How soon can we see Mr. Leland?” he asked, putting his card into the doctor’s hand.

“I will go and prepare Signor Leland for the interview,” the doctor answered, and disappeared through the open doorway.

“Good news for you, signor!” they heard him say in a quiet tone.

“Ah! let me hear it,” sighed a well-known voice. “’As cold water to a thirsty soul, so is good news from a far country.’”

“You are right, signor, it comes from far-off America.  A friend—­a young signor has arrived, and asks to see you.”

“Ah! his name?” exclaimed the sick man, with a tremor of gladness in his feeble tones.

“Here is his card.”

“’Edward Travilla!’—­ah what joy!  Let me see him at once.  ’Twill be like a breath of home air!”

Every word had reached the ears of the two in the studio.

“Go! go!” cried Elsie, scarcely above her breath, and Edward rose and went softly in.

“Not much talk now, signores,” Elsie heard the doctor say.

“No; we’ll be prudent,” Edward said, grasping Lester’s hand.

“So good! so kind! more than I dared hope!  But how is she? my darling?” Elsie heard in feeble, faltering, yet eager accents.

“Well, very well, and longing to come here and nurse you back to health.”

“Ah, a glimpse of her sweet face I think would bring me back from the borders of the grave!  But I could not expect or ask such a sacrifice.”

Elsie could wait no longer; she rose and glided with swift, almost noiseless steps to the bedside.

Edward made way for her.  Lester looked up, caught sight of her, and a flash of exceeding joy lighted up his pale, emaciated features.

“Elsie!”

“Lester!”

She dropped on her knees, laid her face on the pillow beside his, and their lips met in a long kiss.