“She has deserted her sacred post; but a truer, better friend, one who has always loved him as a brother, will supply her place.  All that a sister’s care can do, assuredly he shall have.”

“You are very kind, Miss Beulah; my family are under lasting obligations to you for your generous attentions to that poor boy of ours, and I—­”

“No.  You understand little of the nature of our friendship.  We were orphan children, warmly attached to each other, before you took him to a home of wealth and lavish indulgence.  Were he my own brother, I could not feel more deeply interested in his welfare, and while he requires care and nursing I consider it my privilege to watch over and guard him.  There is Dr. Asbury in the hall; he can tell you better than I of his probable recovery,”

Ah, reader, is

        “Friendship but a name? 
     A charm that lulls to Bleep,
     A shade that follows wealth or fame,
     And leaves the wretch to weep?”

Mr. Graham remained at the cottage, and, having written to Antoinette of the imminent danger in which he found her husband, urged her to lose no time in joining him.  Unluckily, he was ignorant of all the information which is so essential in the occupation of nursing.  He was anxious to do everything in his power; but, like the majority of persons on such occasions, failed wretchedly in his attempts.  Almost as restless and nervous as the sick man, he only increased the difficulties he would fain have remedied, and Beulah finally prevailed upon him to abandon his efforts and leave the room, where his constant movements annoyed and irritated the sufferer.  Eugene recognized no one, but his eyes followed Beulah continually; and when his delirium was at its height only her voice and clasp of his hand could in any degree soothe him.  In his ravings she noticed two constantly conflicting emotions:  a stern bitterness of feeling toward his wife and an almost adoring fondness for his infant child.  Of the latter he talked incessantly, and vowed that she, at least, should love him.  As the weary days crept by Beulah started at every sound, fancying that the wife had certainly come; but hour after hour found only Mrs. Williams and the orphan guarding the deserted husband.  Gradually the fever abated, and a death-like stupor succeeded.  Mr. Graham stole about the house like a haunting spirit, miserable and useless, and in the solemn stillness of midnight only Beulah sat by the pillow, where a head now rested motionless as that of a corpse.  Mrs. Williams was asleep on a couch at the opposite end of the room, and, in the dim, spectral light of the shaded lamp, the watcher and her charge looked unearthly.  Faint from constant vigils, Beulah threw her arm on the bed and leaned her head upon it, keeping her eyes on the colorless face before her.  Who that has watched over friends, hovering upon the borders of the spiritland, needs to be told how dreary was the heart of the solitary nurse?  And to those who have not thus suffered and endured, no description would adequately portray the desolation and gloom.