Ruth went very white at the remembrance.

“Why now, look there! how pale she is at the very thought of it!  And yet, I assure you, she was the one to go up and take the piece of glass from him which he had broken out of the window for the sole purpose of cutting his throat, or the throat of any one else, for that matter.  I wish we had some others as brave as she is.”

“I thought the great panic was passed away!” said Mr. Benson.

“Ay! the general feeling of alarm is much weaker; but, here and there, there are as great fools as ever.  Why, when I leave here, I am going to see our precious member, Mr. Donne——­”

“Mr. Donne?” said Ruth.

“Mr. Donne, who lies ill at the Queen’s—­came last week, with the intention of canvassing, but was too much alarmed by what he heard of the fever to set to work; and, in spite of all his precautions, he has taken it; and you should see the terror they are in at the hotel; landlord, landlady, waiters, servants—­all; there’s not a creature will go near him, if they can help it; and there’s only his groom—­a lad he saved from drowning, I’m told—­to do anything for him.  I must get him a proper nurse, somehow or somewhere, for all my being a Cranworth man.  Ah, Mr. Benson! you don’t know the temptations we medical men have.  Think, if I allowed your member to die now as he might very well, if he had no nurse—­how famously Mr. Cranworth would walk over the course!—­Where’s Mrs. Denbigh gone to?  I hope I’ve not frightened her away by reminding her of Hector O’Brien, and that awful night, when I do assure you she behaved like a heroine!”

As Mr. Benson was showing Mr. Davis out, Ruth opened the study-door, and said, in a very calm, low voice—­

“Mr. Benson! will you allow me to speak to Mr. Davis alone?”

Mr. Benson immediately consented, thinking that, in all probability, she wished to ask some further questions about Leonard; but as Mr. Davis came into the room, and shut the door, he was struck by her pale, stern face of determination, and awaited her speaking first.

“Mr. Davis!  I must go and nurse Mr. Bellingham,” said she at last, clenching her hands tight together; but no other part of her body moving from its intense stillness.

“Mr. Bellingham?” asked he, astonished at the name.

“Mr. Donne, I mean,” said she hurriedly.  “His name was Bellingham.”

“Oh!  I remember hearing he had changed his name for some property.  But you must not think of any more such work just now.  You are not fit for it.  You are looking as white as ashes.”

“I must go,” she repeated.

“Nonsense!  Here’s a man who can pay for the care of the first hospital nurses in London—­and I doubt if his life is worth the risk of one of theirs even, much more of yours.”

“We have no right to weigh human lives against each other.”

“No!  I know we have not.  But it’s a way we doctors are apt to get into; and, at any rate, it’s ridiculous of you to think of such a thing.  Just listen to reason.”