A week passed away, during which Nita was confined to bed, and the Count waited on her with the most tender solicitude¹. As their meals were sent to their rooms, it was not necessary for the latter to appear in the salle-à-manger or the salon². He kept himself carefully out of sight, and intelligence of the invalid’s progress was carried to their friends by Susan Quick, who was allowed to remain as sick-nurse, and who rejoiced in filling that office to one so amiable⁴ and uncomplaining as Nita.

Of course, Lewis was almost irresistibly⁵ tempted⁶ to talk with Susan about her charge, but he felt the impropriety of such a proceeding⁷, and refrained. Not so Gillie White. That sapient⁸ blue spider, sitting in his wonted chair, resplendent with brass¹⁰ buttons and brazen¹¹ impudence¹², availed himself of every opportunity to perform an operation which he styled “pumping;” but Susan, although ready enough to converse¹³ freely on things in general, was judicious¹⁴ in regard to things particular. Whatever might have passed in the sick-room, the pumping only brought up such facts as that the Count was a splendid nurse as well as a loving father, and that he and his daughter were tenderly attached to each other.

“Well, Susan,” observed Gillie, with an approving nod, “I’m glad to hear wot you say, for it’s my b’lief that tender

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