Obeying like a worn-out child, Helen lay motionless while Christie, dipping her fingers in the basin, passed the wet tips softly to and fro across the hot forehead, and the thin temples where the pulses throbbed so fast.  And while she soothed she sang the “Land o’ the Leal,” and sang it well; for the tender words, the plaintive air were dear to her, because her mother loved and sang it to her years ago.  Slowly the heavy eyelids drooped, slowly the lines of pain were smoothed away from the broad brow, slowly the restless hands grew still, and Helen lay asleep.

So intent upon her task was Christie, that she forgot herself till the discomfort of her position reminded her that she had a body.  Fearing to wake the poor girl in her arms, she tried to lean against the basin, but could not reach a cushion to lay upon the cold stone ledge.  An unseen hand supplied the want, and, looking round, she saw two young men standing behind her.

Helen’s brothers, without doubt; for, though utterly unlike in expression, some of the family traits were strongly marked in both.  The elder wore the dress of a priest, had a pale, ascetic face, with melancholy eyes, stern mouth, and the absent air of one who leads an inward life.  The younger had a more attractive face, for, though bearing marks of dissipation, it betrayed a generous, ardent nature, proud and wilful, yet lovable in spite of all defects.  He was very boyish still, and plainly showed how much he felt, as, with a hasty nod to Christie, he knelt down beside his sister, saying, in a whisper: 

“Look at her, Augustine! so beautiful, so quiet!  What a comfort it is to see her like herself again.”

“Ah, yes; and but for the sin of it, I could find it in my heart to wish she might never wake!” returned the other, gloomily.

“Don’t say that!  How could we live without her?” Then, turning to Christie, the younger said, in a friendly tone: 

“You must be very tired; let us lay her on the sofa.  It is very damp here, and if she sleeps long you will faint from weariness.”

Carefully lifting her, the brothers carried the sleeping girl into her room, and laid her down.  She sighed as her head touched the pillow, and her arm clung to Harry’s neck, as if she felt his nearness even in sleep.  He put his cheek to hers, and lingered over her with an affectionate solicitude beautiful to see.  Augustine stood silent, grave and cold as if he had done with human ties, yet found it hard to sever this one, for he stretched his hand above his sister as if he blessed her, then, with another grave bow to Christie, went away as noiselessly as he had come.  But Harry kissed the sleeper tenderly, whispered, “Be kind to her,” with an imploring voice, and hurried from the room as if to hide the feeling that he must not show.

A few minutes later the nurse brought in a note from Mrs. Carrol.

“My son tells me that Helen is asleep, and you look very tired.  Leave her to Hester, now; you have done enough to-day, so let me thank you heartily, and send you home for a quiet night before you continue your good work to-morrow.”