“He can stay in my room,” said Mrs. Wheaton, who, although aiding the physicians, could not help overhearing the conversation.

“No, he shall stay here,” cried Belle passionately; “I’m so unnerved that I’m almost beside myself, and he quiets me and makes me feel safer.  Millie has no right to show her prejudice at such a time.”

Mildred, white and faint, sank into a chair by the table and buried her face in her arms, leaving the young fellow in sore perplexity as to what course he ought to take.  He believed the physicians were right, and yet Mrs. Jocelyn had taken it for granted that he shared her faith in her husband’s truth, and he knew she would banish him from her presence instantly should he betray a doubt as to the correctness of her view.  At the same time the expression of his face had shown Mildred that he understood her father’s condition even better than she did.  It seemed impossible to perform the difficult and delicate part required of him, but with love’s loyalty he determined to do what he imagined the young girl would wish, and he said firmly, “Belle, I again assure you that you can depend upon my promise to the utmost.  Mrs Jocelyn, my respect for you is unbounded, and the privilege of serving you is the best reward I crave.  At the same time I feel that it is neither right nor delicate for me to witness sorrows that are so sacred.  My part is to help, and not look on, and I can help just as well if within call all the time.  Belle,” he whispered, “dear Belle, I know you are unnerved by weeks of overwork as well as by this great trouble, but be a brave little woman once more, and all may soon be well,” and he was about to withdraw when Dr. Benton appeared and said: 

“Mrs. Jocelyn, your husband is now out of all immediate danger, but everything depends upon his future treatment.  I wish this young man to remain a little longer, for you must now decide upon what course you will take.  We have been called in an emergency.  There is no need that I should remain any longer, for the physician who accompanied him here is now amply competent to attend to the case.  You have, however, expressed lack of confidence in us, and may wish to send for your own physician.  If so, this young man can go for him at once.  I can prove to you in two minutes that I am right, and I intend to do so; then my responsibility ceases.  Everything depends on your intelligent and firm co-operation with whatever physician has charge of the case, and it is no kindness to leave you under a delusion that does your heart more credit than your head or eyes.”

He stepped back through the curtained doorway, and returned with her husband’s vest, from an inner pocket of which he took a hypodermic syringe, a bottle of Magendie’s solution, and also another vial of the sulphate of morphia.

“I am an old physician,” he resumed, “and know your husband’s symptoms as well as you know his face.  His possession of these articles should confirm my words.  The slight scars upon his arms and elsewhere were made by this little instrument, as I can show you if you will come and observe—­”