She stirred the fire more pensively than ever, and rearranged the muffin-dish on the little wrought-iron stand in font of the grate.  “And yet,” she murmured, looking down, “what life can be better than the service of one’s kind?  You think it a great life for Sebastian!”

“Sebastian!  He is a man.  That is different; quite different.  But a woman!  Especially you, dear lady, for whom one feels that nothing is quite high enough, quite pure enough, quite good enough.  I cannot imagine how—­”

She checked me with one wave of her gracious hand.  Her movements were always slow and dignified.  “I have a Plan in my life,” she answered earnestly, her eyes meeting mine with a sincere, frank gaze; “a Plan to which I have resolved to sacrifice everything.  It absorbs my being.  Till that Plan is fulfilled—­” I saw the tears were gathering fast on her lashes.  She suppressed them with an effort.  “Say no more,” she added, faltering.  “Infirm of purpose!  I will not listen.”

I leant forward eagerly, pressing my advantage.  The air was electric.  Waves of emotion passed to and fro.  “But surely,” I cried, “you do not mean to say—­”

She waved me aside once more.  “I will not put my hand to the plough, and then look back,” she answered, firmly.  “Dr. Cumberledge, spare me.  I came to Nathaniel’s for a purpose.  I told you at the time what that purpose was—­in part:  to be near Sebastian.  I want to be near him . . . for an object I have at heart.  Do not ask me to reveal it; do not ask me to forego it.  I am a woman, therefore weak.  But I need your aid.  Help me, instead of hindering me.”

“Hilda,” I cried, leaning forward, with quiverings of my heart, “I will help you in whatever way you will allow me.  But let me at any rate help you with the feeling that I am helping one who means in time—­”

At that moment, as unkindly fate would have it, the door opened, and Sebastian entered.

“Nurse Wade,” he began, in his iron voice, glancing about him with stern eyes, “where are those needles I ordered for that operation?  We must be ready in time before Nielsen comes. . . .  Cumberledge, I shall want you.”

The golden opportunity had come and gone.  It was long before I found a similar occasion for speaking to Hilda.

Every day after that the feeling deepened upon me that Hilda was there to watch Sebastian.  Why, I did not know; but it was growing certain that a life-long duel was in progress between these two—­a duel of some strange and mysterious import.